


Strange as Angels

by Clumbs18



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 90's Music, All the swears, Alternate Universe, Angst and Humor, Angst and Romance, Consent, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Hogwarts, Inspired by Music, Loss of Parent(s), Muggle/Wizard Relations, Original Character(s), Pining, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Severus Snape is Bad at Feelings, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Wizard Duels, being a teacher is hard, help me I'm feeling, professors actually doing their job, review me bitch, snape the romantic, the 90's were crazy, wolfstar, writing to not feel like crying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:29:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 43
Words: 231,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27608344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clumbs18/pseuds/Clumbs18
Summary: "What is it Hendrix said, Severus?...Music is magic. And magic is life.""You should get that on your next t-shirt."..Circe is a witch who has been caught between the muggle and wizarding world for most of her life. But when Dumbledore advertises for a new teaching role at Hogwarts, she meets a dark and enigmatic intellectual match in the resident Potions Master.  The anecdotes of teaching in a wizarding school will bring them together, but something much deeper and more surprising will keep them from drifting apart.A meeting of minds. A sharing of sympathies. A CD collection...An AU of the Harry Potter Universe with the 90's soundtrack you definitely needed. In which one very consequential character is added to the narrative. How much of the Boy-Who-Lived's story will she change and how much will remain the same? Or perhaps more to the point, just how much of Severus' life will she change for better or for worse...?
Relationships: Severus Snape & Original Female Character(s), Severus Snape/, Severus Snape/Other(s)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 56





	1. "When we did not know the answers"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> This is my first foray into fanfic writing and I'm desperate for feedback and reviews. 
> 
> The chapters are named after a song that I feel best encapsulates the mood of the section. A virtual sweet to anyone who gets it first! All of the music referenced in the story I've tried to keep non-anachronistic and are all 90's bangers that would have been around in the relevant year of the fic. For best results, listen to the tune as you read ;)
> 
> Please do excuse typos or bad grammar. I will try to amend as I find! 
> 
> Clumbs x

Chapter 1 - "When we did not know the answers."

The Elephant Cafe was unusually quiet for this time of year. It was August in Edinburgh and the Fringe festival was in full swing. Normally there would be a host of actors, musicians and performers besetting every space available in the city for concerts, plays and colorful menageries, including the cafe just off the Royal Mile. But today, Circe's favorite cafe was a peaceful haven from the bustle of Auld Reekie, quiet enough to leave her alone to her thoughts.

She sat in her usual window seat, her back to the relentless gray drizzle of the Scottish day. The clouds hung low and the sun had yet to break through the concrete colored sky at five o clock in the afternoon. It was a lethargic-feeling day; the tours of Edinburgh castle that Circe led had been repetitive and dull. Friday, this day, was one that did not have any of her seminars or lectures at the University on her lecturer's timetable. She had asked the university department to up her hours and give her at least three days out of the five to teach. But alas, no, the "budget cuts" to the department had been cited and she'd taken on her tour guide job at the castle to make ends meet. It wasn't all bad, she loved both jobs when she had an interesting and captivated audience. But today, a group of kids from Falkirk High school had been touring the castle and hadn't even done her the courtesy of pretending to listen… not even when she'd showed them the Old Witchery: the site of the medieval gallows, right at the top of The Royal Mile, where Scottish witches were burnt.

 _The curse of the academic,_ Circe thought dryly. _Dad did warn you that specialising in something niche would pigeon-hole your career._ At twenty five years old, she'd spent many years trying to break into the University's teaching faculty. Specialising in the History of Magic and the Occult in Medieval Europe didn't exactly mean jobs were bountiful, so she'd leapt at the opportunity when Edinburgh University had advertised for a Junior part-time lecturer. She'd been in Edinburgh now for almost four years and her role had barely changed. Getting any kind of promotion was incredibly lucrative and it seemed to Circe the only way she'd ever be made a full-time staff member was if one of her colleagues died on the job. The oldest member of staff in the History department was a maddeningly young fifty seven too… The whole thing was giving her a tension headache.

She ran her hands through her hair, teasing apart her strong curls with her fingers. They were not coil-like, or even big and Disney Princessey but something in between. In her less confident moments she thought she looked like something akin to a Springer Spaniel. She looked out the Cafe's window into the dim and drizzle outside and pondered that the moisture would have her looking like King Charles Ist by the time she got home. She pushed up her glasses and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. Her coffee sat half-drunk on the table in front of her, a letter with her name written in dark ink on the envelope next to it. She had a decision to make.

She picked up the thick envelope again and scanned through it with her emerald green eyes. It was an interesting proposition: a job, free bed and board and a decent salary. All three things that she was struggling with here.

However...

It had been many years since she had last seen Hogwarts. But could it really work? Could returning to its halls as a teaching staff member be a good idea? For many years now she had been a woman of two worlds, her past firmly rooted in the wizarding world and her present as a masquerading muggle. More days than not now, she left her wand in its Ollivanders box underneath her bed. Although it was decidedly much harder to leave her blue Ravenclaw scarf at home, especially on cold or unforgivingly windy Scottish mornings. More than once she had passed an unfamiliar face, walking through the Old Town, and locked eyes with a stranger with a magical and knowing twinkle in their eye. Sometimes they also wore a matching blue scarf, sometimes not. A curt nod of acknowledgement and they passed her without stopping.

Most of her friends from school had been baffled that she'd decided to attend a muggle university after her NEWTS. She'd tried to explain that it's what her Dad wanted, being a very traditional and upstanding muggle accountant. Her mother had died many years before, when she was ten. From what Circe could gather, her father had never been big into the wizarding stuff even when her Mum had been around. When she was gone, it became a world he had no understanding of and engagement with it brought back a wave of grief and emotion, connected to the memory of her mother. Circe had received her Hogwarts letter when she turned eleven and every year when she went away to school in September, it became a world completely separate and devoid of anything her Dad was. He tried his best, of course, to ask her and write to her about her studies, both when she'd been away and when she was at home during the holidays. But she could see it was painful for him to talk about it, and when she did elaborate to him he looked as confused and lost at what she was saying as if she were speaking Greek.

Her Dad had still talked about her Mum, as painful as it was for him and her both. They had grieved together and were, as a result, very close. But he had managed to do it by only very occasionally referring to her mother's magical abilities. Somehow, his efforts came across as both sweet but also incredibly reductive. _I went to Hogwarts for Mum,_ she thought. _I went to University for Dad._

Her Hogwarts friends had drifted apart from her in the years since school finished. She saw a few occasionally, but most she only heard about in passing rumours and occasional Christmas cards. And the wizarding world hadn't taken to mobile phones in the way that Muggles had yet… They were all reaching that age when they were all starting to spawn too. Maybe it was a small blessing to be spared of the myriad of baby photos, after all. However, Circe made a habit of ordering a Daily Prophet every couple of months to keep up to speed with the news of the wizarding world. It was infrequent enough that no one noticed the owls outside her flat window delivering it. And that's where she'd seen the advert.

Dumbledore was advertising for a new teaching role: a teacher of Ancient Studies. To start that September too. After one too many school kid tours at the castle, and the third week in a row surviving on Pot Noodle after another tight month, she'd found herself posting her CV in response to the ad. Yet, she'd expected an interview at least. But there in her letter before her, Dumbledore was offering her the position. It would certainly be a shock to assimilate back into the wizarding world after so many years away, and yet she found her heart aching for Hogwarts. Her home. Her past. Her family.

Rather decidedly, she reached into her leather satchel beneath the cafe table for her pen and notepad and swiftly wrote out two letters of resignation: one to Edinburgh Castle and one to the University. She would miss it, she mused, but what future was there for her here? After paying her bill, she stepped out into the dim afternoon light and started her journey home. She wrapped her almost floor-length brown tartan coat around her, protecting herself against the rain, and strode up towards Greyfriars. She posed a striking figure at almost 5'9 and her coat flapped behind her as she walked with purpose along the Edinburgh pavements. She paused for a moment as she stood in front of the red post box before her, her resignation letters in her hand. After a deep breath, she looked up and blew Edinburgh a goodbye kiss before posting them through the hole. There was no going back now. She reached into her bag again and pulled out a third letter, one she'd written almost as soon as she'd received the one from Dumbledore but until then had little expectation of posting it. Her letter of acceptance. She stared at it in her hands, watching rain drops peppering its surface. How was she going to send it? She didn't even have an owl anymore..

A hoot brought her out of her speculative trance and she looked up. As if in answer to her thoughts, there perched on top of the statue of Greyfriars Bobby was an owl. Beautiful and silken brown, giving her the most intense stare. She raised an eyebrow back at the creature, marveling at Dumbledore's intuition, and held the letter out tentatively to it. For a brief moment, the owl did nothing and she felt foolish at the thought of being seen waving a letter at a bird. But then, the owl snatched it from her, taking it into his beak and taking off into the dismal weather. She smiled as she watched the bird fly off into the steel sky, caring not a jot at the droplets coating her glasses and soaking her hair through. _I'm going home…_

* * *

The drive up to Fort William had been a leisurely thing. Ever since coming to Scotland, she'd always dreamt of going up to the Highlands for an explore. But work had become overwhelming and Circe found she had no one special to go with and it was yet another thing that had been pushed aside in the drudgery of day to day survival.

Her landlord had settled on her lease, happy to wave the time of notice down to just a few weeks, saying he'd probably find someone within a few days to occupy the modest one bedroom apartment. A small goodbye round of pints had been had between her and a couple of colleagues she had become friendly with, but otherwise her leaving the city of Edinburgh was swift and painless. Now, all her worldly possessions were stuffed into her VW Beetle. Taking her sweet time of things, she'd spent a night camping on the shores of Loch Leven, then on to Glencoe for a heavenly weekend walking the landscape, and then had detoured rather heavily out to the Isle of Skye for a while. Looking out at the harbour on her last day at Portree, tucking in to her fish and chips had been a wonderful slice of peace, if a tad lonely. She wished she'd done this sooner, and with the friends she had just left behind in Edinburgh. But still, a little solitary holiday before the inevitable return to Hogwarts gave her time to organize her thoughts.

She'd made the inevitable trip out to Diagon Alley earlier in the summerto, in many cases, re-purchase a lot of her wizarding necessities. Re familiarizing herself with knuts and bolts and sickles had been a wee bit challenging, but it came back to her after a few practice buys. She remembered instantly the erudite joy of stepping into Flourish and Blotts, the grandeur of Gringotts and the general buzz of being around her likewise magical kinfolk. There were very few faces she recognized and even fewer still who stopped for a short hello. After completing her shopping list, she'd impulse-bought a beautiful speckled Tawny Owl she had christened Ziggy (after her favorite album, of course). Ziggy had made it his mission to screech the whole ride up, but she found that he quietened down considerably when she sang to him. As a result, her journey had been punctuated with several car concerts, barreling down small highland roads belting Tiny Dancer or at one point, when she'd played _every single character_ on the Les Miserables soundtrack... Her voice felt red raw by the time she'd checked out of her final B&B.

And then suddenly, all at once, there was Hogwarts. It was almost as if she'd not expected it to be there, even after diligently following the signs for Hogsmeade. Breathtakingly beautiful, it sat on the crest of the hill in a moment of rare but brilliant sunlight. There had been times when Circe had been sitting on another monotonous bus journey to work or filing paperwork in the University's offices that she'd questioned whether Hogwarts had ever been real, all just an imagined dream of her teenage years. But there it was, in striking defiance. _How could anyone mistake Hogwarts for a ruin?_ Circe thought to herself, marveling at the disguising charm that had been put on the building to deter local muggles. From the very tips of Ravenclaw tower to the snaking stairs leading down to the boathouse, Circe drank in every little detail, a thousand and one memories coming back to her. She pulled the car over and for a short while just stared at her long-forgotten home now before her, emotionally laden tears now springing from her eyes. The ache in her chest that she had for Hogwarts when she had first received Dumbledore's letter exploded into a warming wave of love. She smiled to herself, her vision blurring from her tears. She hastily wiped her face and continued her drive.

Hogwarts did not have a car park, unsurprisingly. But in her correspondence with the school since the summer she had been instructed to leave her car in Hogsmeade and make her way to the school with the older years in the self-drawn carriages. Her belongings, she assumed, would be brought up to the castle later. She arrived early in the afternoon, a good few hours before the Hogwarts Express was due to arrive. Time for a quick drink.

The Three Broomsticks was a time capsule for her. Unchanged for centuries and again a well of memories from Circe's own time in school. Many an evening had been spent in here in her teenage years, experimenting with booze and boys. She ordered a butter beer and made herself comfortable by the warm fire, Ziggy snoozing in his cage next to her feet. She supposed she could let him free now and he'd find his own way to the Owlery from here. But he'd already become her darling, her firm companion, and she wanted just a few more moments with him before she was truly on her own.

She had only been tucked into her book for a few minutes before a great bellowing voice at the other end of the pub shook her out of her reader's trance. Not in a month of sundays could she ever mistake that voice…

"Hagrid?" She called out.

Hagrid's head popped round one of the pub's corners and his eyes lit up. Almost as much of a fixture of Hogwarts as the greenhouses or the Great Hall. She almost got teary again when she saw him.

"Circe! Blimey! You're the one Dumbledore got to teach Ancient Studies then?"

Circe stood and Hagrid strode over to her. Hagrid enveloped her in a crushing hug and Circe tried to return it in kind but felt as if the wind were being squeezed out of her.

"How long 'as it been since you were in this neck 'o the woods then?" He asked her, finally releasing her from his iron grip.

"Nine… ten years. Something like that."

"Don't you look all grown up…" Hagrid beamed. "Makes me feel my age! People that were teenagers yesterday are adults now and kids I thought were little babies are growing up faster than I can keep up!"

Circe laughed "And when are the little darlings due to get here?" She asked.

"Oh, six or seven. Not for a while yet." He replied. "You'll never guess who's starting Hogwarts in this year's lot." He teased.

"Who?" The two sat down together at Circe's table next to the fire, her interest peaked.

"Harry Potter."

Circe was speechless. _He was already eleven?_ She thought. "Goodness me…"

"I know! Took him myself to get his wizarding stuff from Diagon Alley I did."

"So You-Know-Who has been gone for over ten years…" she breathed.

"You didn't fight in the last war did ye?" Hagrid asked, his brow furrowing as he tried to do the mental maths.

Circe felt a sting inside. "Um… no I didn't." She replied. "Damn thing was over before I'd turned eighteen." She added, helping Hagrid with his mental gymnastics.

It had always been a sore point for Circe. Her latter school years had been plagued by stories of Voldemort's warmongering. She watched many of her friends in the older years go off to fight in the war and die in the war, and to her it seemed like time could not travel fast enough to speed her to her eighteenth birthday. The Order flatly turned her down when she'd asked to fight alongside the Potters and the Longbottoms and Dumbledore himself. She'd even at one point lied about her age to join the fight, but Dumbledore had turned her away at the first Order meeting she attended and suffered through three months worth of detention as recompense. Voldemort had been defeated by The Boy Who Lived in September, Circe turned eighteen in October…two years later.

"Ah well… nasty stuff." Hagrid said dismissively, sensing the coolness of her tone. "All better left in the past."

"Indeed." Circe said curtly. She sighed heavily and tried to push the bitter memories away. "Another round Hagrid?"

The two spent a few cozy hours talking and catching up on the past ten or so years. She told Hagrid of her lecturing job at The University (having to first of all explain what a University was) and he brought her up to speed with his rescue of Harry Potter from his frightfully awful sounding relatives. The beers flowed and the sun began to set outside.

"Have ye been up to the castle yet?" Hagrid asked after a while.

"No, I was going to wait for the carriages to get here. Go up with the students."

"Or ye could walk it, if you didn't want t' wait any longer." Hagrid offered. Circe thought on this for a moment. Of course, how had she completely forgotten the walking path from Hogsmeade? It was an attractive offer, one that avoided all kinds of gawping teenagers muttering to each other and elbowing one another in the ribs as they looked at her.

"You know, I think I might." She said. "Sort a few things out before the feast." She stood up and touched the top of Ziggy's cage, ready to carry him up to the castle.

"I'll look after 'im." Hagrid offered, pointing at the bird. "Introduce him to everyone. Show him where the Owlery is."

Circe couldn't think of a better person to leave Ziggy with. "Thank you Hagrid." she handed the owl cage over to the giant.

"Now go on, be on your way." Hagrid replied, taking the cage from her and patting her reassuringly on the back. "I know you professors have lots t' be doin' this time of year. And I'll see you soon at the feast"

"See you soon...colleague." Circe said with a smile. Hagrid laughed and waved her out the door.

The sun was just dipping over the horizon as Circe passed the Shrieking Shack. She found herself almost upon the Hogwarts grounds by the time the sky was streaked with purple. The huge wooden doors of the outer courtyard were slightly ajar and she saw a warm orange light spilling out from the heart of the castle. She tiptoed up to the doors and peered around quietly. A myriad of house elves were bustling all around inside. They carried food, cutlery, glasses and a trove of other things here and there, chattering away. Circe had never seen a House Elf whilst she'd been at school. They preferred to keep to the kitchens and out of sight, she'd heard. _I guess they come and go as they please when the students aren't here_ she thought. She watched them in awe for a while, nattering away to one another and moving at a lightning fast speed. In one House elf's hand she spied a very familiar looking suitcase: hers!

"Hey!" She forgot she was meant to be hiding and pushed open the doors. The house elves all looked up in unison and scurried away at the presence of a human. In seconds they were gone and it was all Circe could do to keep her head from reeling in dizziness as she failed to keep an eye on them.

"May I help you?" A voice called out to her from down the hall. Circe turned to meet the voice and saw the striking figure of her old Professor, gliding gracefully towards her.

"Professor Mcgonagall."

"My goodness!" Mcgongall clutched at her heart as she saw Circe's face clearly in the soft yellow light. "Circe Smith! How wonderful to see you again."

"You too Professor." Circe beamed. Her familiar Scottish brogue was a soothing tonic to her.

"Oh I suppose you'd better call me Minerva now we're to be colleagues." She added, pursing her prim lips together and taking Circe's hand into her own.

"Ha! That will never not be strange to me…" Circe said.

"Oh many an old student has found themselves back within Hogwarts's walls once more, myself included. Besides, I also hear that we're to be neighbours…"

"Neighbours?"

"Come," Mcgonagall said, beckoning to her. "I shall explain on the way to the Staff room."

"There's a Staff Room…?" Circe asked, genuinely surprised. Not once had she seen a staff room whilst she'd been a student.

"Well of course." Mcgonagall laughed. "No self-respecting Professor would ever tell a student where to find them outside of lessons!" They both laughed and began their walk.

It came to light in their conversation that Minerva and Circe were to lodge adjacent to each other.

"With a shared bathroom and quite a charming little conservatory for us both to use." Mcgonagall added.

It wasn't what Circe had expected, but at least it was still private enough… and it was sure to be a damn site less lonely than her single occupant flat in Edinburgh.

"The house elves have been dropping off your possessions all afternoon" Minerva added. She stopped outside of a normal looking wall not far from a courtyard where Circe and her friends used to frequently sit together. The empty wall space seemed to be flanked by two armour suits, standing to attention.

"Wait… I don't see…" Circe began.

"The Staff room is here." Minerva assured her. "You just have to know the password." She walked up to the armour suits and they sprang to life, stamping their spears on the floor. Circe flinched. Mcgonagall did not. "Pedagogica magica." She said to the suits slowly. For a beat, nothing happened. But then the two armoured suits turned to each other and reached into each other's helmet visors. Like a magician pulling hankies from his sleeve, a long richly embroidered tapestry emerged from the helmets. Soon, they held a deep red tapestry in their hands that they held up to the empty wall with their armoured gauntlets.

"The door is behind the tapestry." Minerva said.

Circe looked to her old teacher, skepticism plain in her raised brow. Minerva did not reply, simply waved her hand at the cloth, inviting her to check. Circe inched forwards and tentatively pulled back a corner of the tapestry and there on the wall behind was a heavy oaken door where there had not been one before. She looked back to Minerva, wonder twinkling in her eye. Minerva smiled back, and they both walked through into the Professor's staff room.

Immediately, Circe was hit by the familiar scent of brewing coffee and people in conversation. _Not unlike muggle Staff Rooms_ she thought to herself. Warm and inviting was the Hogwarts staff room: in one corner of the room sat a small kitchenette fitted with a rather steampunky looking espresso machine that covered the whole left wall with copper pipes and a menagerie of small brass animals sitting on the metal tubes. It hissed and spurted out jets of hot air every few minutes, like it were alive. At the other end of the room were a collection of mismatched chairs. Barstools, armchairs, chaise lounges, benches, enough to seat the whole staff cohort during a meeting and they were littered everywhere. Circe even spied a few hammocks dotted about here and there, with a selection of invitingly soft looking pillows thrown into their boughs. Books covered every wall surface that was not occupied by moving portraits. _Probably of ex-staff members_ Circe thought to herself.

A selection of other familiar professorly faces greeted her warmly and she was soon shaking more hands and smiling so wide her cheeks hurt. Professor Flitwick, her old head of house, gave her a lengthy handshake and extolled his joy at seeing her again.

"Rolanda! Pomona! You remember Circe, don't you?" He cooed, dragging her from person to person.

"Of course I do…" Madame Hooch beamed. "Circe Beater, the Hufflepuff Eater."

Circe laughed, remembering her epithet from her years in the Ravenclaw Quidditch team.

"Ooh another ex-Quidditch player!" Mcgonagall clasped her hands together in excitement. "You must give some coaching to the Ravenclaw team at some point. Filius is rather scared of heights and they've been neglected of recent years."

"Of course." Circe said courteously "If the Gryffindor team are still as bad as I remember, they won't need much of my help." She winked at Minerva as the other staff members giggled. Mcgonagall gave her a playful tap on the shoulder with the scrolls bunched up in her hands.

Minerva pulled out her golden pocket watch from her cloak and sighed. "Time is almost upon us." She said. "I'm afraid I have to dash off to see to a few last minute arrangements, but do pop in to your living quarters before the Feast, and we'll continue to talk sports."

"Will do." Circe nodded.

Mcgonagall was gone in a heartbeat. Most of the other staff also shuffled off after another round of welcomes and hand shakings for Circe. After Pomona Sprout smiled sweetly at her and uttered one last "It's good to see you, my girl." Circe was left alone in the Staff Room.

 _Damn_ she thought to herself, _I didn't ask her where our rooms in the castle actually are…_

Circe did not feel like trawling through the innumerable rooms and corridors of Hogwarts by herself, looking for a room that may well be hidden just as effectively as the Staff Room was.

She wondered whether she'd even have time to change out of her travel outfit she wore now. If it came to it, she theorised it wouldn't be _so_ bad to wear what she had on: her trademark long tartan coat, threaded with gorgeous oranges and blues (and rather like the Buchanan family tartan, her Scottish colleagues had told her) which she'd paired with an old black turtleneck and baggy blue jeans.

The staff room was dead-quiet, punctuated only occasionally by the soft gurgle of the coffee machine ticking over. She wandered absentmindedly over to the espresso machine at the far wall of the Room. She looked up in amazement at the maze of pipes and cogs spanning floor to ceiling. A brass eagle perched on top of the machine caught her eye. She stared it at it for a moment before it suddenly sprang to life and looked at her with a curious flap of its wings.

"Hello Mr Eagle." She laughed, extending a curious hand out to him.

The bird screeched, sending a jet of scalding hot steam from its beak, straight at Circe's hand.

"Ouch!" She shouted, toppling backwards.

She thudded into the back of a heavy leather armchair and she heard an angry shout emanating from the seat. She gasped and wheeled around, clutching her scalded hand. Oh God, _they must have been sitting so still and quiet…_ she thought

"I… I'm so sorry…" she stuttered. _They heard me say "Hello Mr Eagle",_ she turned bright red as she walked around to the front of the chair to meet her unknown audience. The voice grumbled again and snapped down the copy of The Daily Prophet that was held tantalizingly over their face. The man's look could have curdled milk…


	2. "Come as you are."

Chapter 2 - "Come as you are."

Circe realised why she'd not seen him. His black hair and clothes blended seamlessly into the dark of the chair that he sat in. Dark as a shadow. Her eyes widened as his angry look softened a touch. "Don't touch the brass animals." He hissed at her through clenched teeth. "They _will_ bite."

Circe cleared her throat "Um… I don't think we know each other." Circe thought about extending a hand out to the man, but feared _he_ might bite as well... He looked like he had a venomous quality to him, shrouded in black as he was with harsh chiseled cheekbones and pale-white skin. He looked like an adder, ready to strike, but incredibly striking in his own way.

"No?" He asked in a long drawl, raising an inky eyebrow at her.

"Circe. Smith. I'm teaching Ancient Studies this year."

"Are you.." he responded flatly, rising from his chair. He was tall, over six foot at least and he looked down his arrow sharp nose at her in a way that made her breath catch in her throat.

"Professor Severus Snape. Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House." He did not extend a hand to her.

_Gosh, that voice…_ Circe thought to herself. It was rich and velvety. Reminding her rather a lot of some of the actors and performers she'd run into during the Fringe months in Edinburgh. It was a shock to her to have such a disparity between the harsh, vicious feel of his outer countenance and the soft, dulcet tones in his voice. Maybe he was more predator-like than she originally thought: sometimes the most deadly of hunters lure their prey into submission with a welcoming delusion.

She paused for a second longer than she intended to, lost in her own musings. The air felt heavy around them.

"Ohh.." Circe replied, shaken out of her trance. "Professor Slughorn was the Potions Master when I was here..

"Fascinating." He replied icily.

"He ...um… retired did he?" She asked, struggling for conversation.

"Obviously."

Circe nodded her head and looked around the room awkwardly. His gaze was intense and unrelenting and she felt like she were being regarded like an owl regards a mouse.

Severus rolled his eyes and realised he'd have to make some small talk now he'd been discovered. He had tried rather hard to read his paper alone and unbothered. Now he had to attempt to sound interested in the newcomer.

"Will you be at the Feast later?" He asked.

"Uhh, yes. All teachers are aren't they?" She asked.

"Indeed, but…"

"But what?"

"The Feast, in case you've forgotten, is a formal affair." He cast a judging eye down her body and back up to her face. She met his eyes, emerald meeting dark obsidian black. So rich and deep that his look alone unsettled her beyond logical explanation. She was not bad-looking, he conceded to himself. Her hair was streaked with tones of gold and copper and shone like a brass penny, particularly flattering when styled in her curls . But right then, her hair looked wild and in dire need of a comb from her afternoon stroll up to the castle. She almost matched him in height and was one of the tallest women he'd ever met. Perhaps that's why she was wearing a pair of filthy Doc Martens and not proper shoes; heels would make her amazonian… Maybe then she'd be half way tolerable.

"Oh, uh well I'm not entirely sure where my suitcases have been left yet. I figured this would be okay…"

"Hmm" he scoffed, "I hardly think Harris tweed is an appropriate thing to be wearing at the Great Feast."

She flinched, feeling rather deservedly insulted.

"I'm sorry?" She asked incredulously.

"Not a good first impression to be making to the students, turning up in an old coat and muddy boots. Doesn't exactly command respect, does it."

She was speechless at his rudeness. Too angry to even muster a reply. Severus pushed past her and left her gawking.

"Have you been told where you will be lodging?"

She shook herself out of her silent trance, "Um close to Mcgonagall…" she offered weakly. Snape muttered something to himself and nodded.

"I shall show you there if you wish? It's not far from here."

She wordlessly followed Snape, who turned on his heels without waiting to hear her reply, and walked out of the Staff Room. Snape had been correct, their destination was only three minutes away, but Circe seethed with anger every step there. He came to stop outside of a set of twin oak doors with matching gold fittings. The right door was closed and locked shut, the left was mercifully open. Circe peered inside and saw a neat little stack of her boxes and suitcases as well as her assorted smaller items laid on her bed and Ziggy's cage by the open window.

"Thank you, Professor." She said to Snape coldly, trying to avoid his eyes as she moved to enter the room.

"Not at all." He strode away from her, breezing past her in a bat-like swoop.

Frustration bubbled up inside her as she struggled to control her urge to scream at him.

"Oh, Professor…" she called, having mustered a witty retort. But he was gone.

Angry at her slowness, she stormed inside and kicked at a pile of boxes, sending some of her clothes spilling out onto the floor. She shrugged off her offending coat and threw it in a crumple onto the bed. Hot tears of frustration sprang up in her eyes and she paced up and down the room, her hands on her hips repeating _Don't you dare cry. Don't you dare cry. Don't you dare cry_ in her head. Her mind reeled at all of the nasty and vicious things she wanted to call that man. She hated how she'd frozen up when he'd insulted her. Prey to his predator. For that, she was more angry at herself than him…

She resisted the urge to dramatically throw herself down on the bed like a Disney princess and cry. Instead she balled up her sadness until it felt rock hard in her gut, like a diamond forming under pressure. She felt herself calm, and her rage turned icy cold. Circe needed something to halt her racing mind and distract her from crafting infinite hypothetical comeback quips or retaliation conversations between her and Snape. She looked around where she stood, for the first time taking in her new lodgings. It was a decent sized room, fitted with an elaborately carved four poster bed with a wonderfully intricate ivy design carved into the pillars. The bedding was a soft plush green and she ran a hand along the mint velvet throw, as gentle as rabbit fur. A sizeable corner desk had been fitted in the same sturdy carved oak, as well as a fitted floor-to-ceiling wardrobe and a vanity table. Three oval mirrors sat atop the vanity and Circe ran her fingers over the faded gold filigree that still sat in the crevices of the ivy patterned carving. She'd always wanted a vanity table since she was a little girl.

Two doors led from her bedroom. Circe walked to one and tentatively pulled it open. On the other side was the greenest, lushest conservatory Circe had ever seen. It was dark outside now, but Circe could see the stars above clearly through the glass roof, and by moonlight every plant and leaf in the room shone as if dipped in silver. It was warm and cozy, despite the chill of September outside, illuminated by what looked like a small enchanted oil lamp that burned on top of a bamboo coffee table. Several books had been left on top of the coffee table, half read by Mcgonagall no doubt. Placed around the table were two matching bamboo armchairs, upholstered with an exotic looking elephant pattern. Circe almost swooned as she imagined herself sinking into one of those chairs and getting lost in her reading for a few hours. Another door led out of the conservatory, leading to Minerva's room adjacent to her.

_Ah, Minerva said we shared a conservatory and…_ her thoughts trailed off and she rounded on herself, walking back through her door into her room. She tried the other door that she had overlooked and peered inside … _and a bathroom._

It was modest, but functional. With a standard toilet, sink, mirror and a huge free standing bath slap bang in the middle of the room. The feet of the Bath were wrinkled and clawed like an animal's. _A hippogriff maybe?_ Circe thought to herself. The absence of a shower would make mornings longer and a little more difficult. But Circe, once again found herself enjoying the thought of languishing in an opulent bubble bath in this room. Again, just like in the conservatory, another door stood at the other end of the room giving Mcgonagall her entrance into the shared space.

_I'll have to try and make a habit of knocking before I come barging in here…_ she thought to herself.

She caught her reflection in the mirror above the bathroom sink and sighed. He was right, she did look scruffy. _But not awful!_ She thought to herself defensively. She began running her fingers through her curls, something she often did absentmindedly or when she was stressed. After hitting a few knots, she sighed again and took off her glasses for a clean. She tried to push Snape's comments out of her head or to the back of her mind, but they sat there knawing away at her insides like a mouse in a cardboard box. She relinquished that this one little thing had ruined an otherwise wonderful day.

_I suppose I could find something to wear._ she thought. _Put on a bit of lipstick, do my hair up_ … She experimentally bunched her hair together in her hands and piled it on top of her head. She gave a silly pout to her reflection and batted her lashes as flirtatiously as she could muster. Her lips were fuller than most girls and her lashes looked quite long with a lick of mascara. She could scrub up quite well when she wanted. But did she want to? Part of her didn't, more out of spite to that black-haired git than laziness on her part.

_And why should I? Just to make that rude bugger feel better about having to be seen with me?! He also clearly doesn't realise that Harris tweed is quite expensive…_ she thought sardonically.

_God, I'd love to turn up head to toe in tweed just to watch him balk._

And then Circe got an idea… she wandered back into her bedroom and swiftly removed her boots, jeans and turtleneck. She stood in her underwear before the vanity mirror and pushed down her bra straps to leave her shoulders bare. She then picked up her hastily discarded coat and placed it back over her arms and buttoning it up around her midriff. She rifled in a nearby bag and pulled out a belt, fitting it around her waist and sinching the coat in tightly. Finally, she pulled down the neckline of the coat so it hung off her shoulders rather alluringly showing off her full neckline and a tantalising bit of cleavage. It almost looked like a dress… _If you squint your eyes_ Circe thought, sighing again and dropping herself down onto the edge of her bed.

She was the absolute picture of misery when Mcgonagall knocked gently on her bedroom door

"Oh good! You did find your room." Mcgonagall began, seeing Circe sat on the bed through the still slightly ajar door. She walked inside to meet Circe, "I have a few minutes now before the First Years get here. I can see Hagrid loading them into the boats on the other side of the l…" she trailed off as she saw a fat tear roll of Circe's nose and onto her hand. "Whatever is the matter, dear?"

Circe flushed deep red again, embarrassed that she'd put Minerva in this rather awkward situation. She wiped her face swiftly and stood to meet her.

"Minerva, I need your help…" she paused. "And a favor."

Mcgonagall was flabbergasted, "I - well…"

"Please?" Her eyes were red and pleading.

"Of course, dear. What favour do you need?"

"That you don't ask me why I want your help…"

Minerva pursed her lips and sighed in disbelief.

"Does this have anything to do with your current upset state?"

Circe did not answer, but her silence was confirmation enough. She didn't want to go crying to Mcgonagall on her first day. It didn't sit well with her to complain about a member of staff only a few hours into her tenure. She'd given up letting adults fight her battles for her a long time ago. Mcgonagall's eyes widened and she nodded slowly. If she'd known the girl better, she would have forced it out of her. But as they were relatively new acquaintances she reluctantly let it pass.. this time.

"Very well. And what help do you require?"

"Can you transfigure this coat into a dress?"

Mcgonagall did not answer, shocked at her question. Somehow she'd expected something a little less trivial, but something about the way Circe asked her made her think it was a very important issue indeed.

"Uhh…" she pulled out her small oval glasses and placed them on her face. "Well yes, I suppose. It should be a fairly easy few spells."

"Like this…" Circe demonstrated how she wanted the garment to look and talked her through the elongations and crops she wanted.

Mcgonagall nodded slowly, pulling on the coat and circling round Circe slowly. "Yes…" it should be quite achievable and quite flattering." Mcgonagall said with a raised eyebrow, smirking at Circe. "This isn't to… impress someone is it?" Mcgonagall asked.

"Impress?! No…" Circe replied, suppressing a scoff. Minerva waited for Circe to offer more, but nothing came.

"Well…" Mcgonagall sighed, taking out her wand. "We better begin."

* * *

Severus watched the amassing students in the Great Hall with a detatched air of disdain. The coaches had begun to arrive some minutes ago and he had been there to usher the Slytherins into the hall, careful to avoid looking directly at the Thestrals. Not one of them saw them and despite himself, Severus felt a small stab of relief that his charge had been spared witnessing death since he last relinquished care of them. They chatted aimlessly as they sat at the empty house tables, catching up on the summer and gossiping away. It was an inaudible buzz of noise to Severus and for a while he let himself drift off somewhere else as he watched the gently bobbing candles hanging in the Great Hall's roof.

Students and staff alike entered through the swinging oak doors at the far end of the room, scanning the crowd for faces they recognised, curtly nodding or waving. Professor Sprout and Madame Hooch entered side by side, striding confidently down the central aisle, and took their seats at the other end of the staff table. The seat next to Svereus still remained empty. _Good,_ he thought to himself , thankful he didn't have to force a conversation with anyone for the time being. Most of the Professors were here now, apart from Dumbledore and Mcgonagall. _Oh, and the new staff._

It was almost laughable how fast Hogwarts went through Dark Arts teachers. Of course, it was because of the curse but Severus had requested of Dumbledore a number of times to appoint him to the role. Perhaps the curse would not affect him, considering the favour he had once curried with the Dark Lord. But alas, no. He had yet to meet this year's 'lamb to the slaughter'. Severus had thought that it was that girl he had met in the Staff Room earlier, until she had clarified she was to start teaching Ancient Studies. She certainly looked more bookish than of boggarts…

He could tell he had offended her earlier. Something about the fiery look in her eyes reminded him of a night with Lily several years ago... That was certainly a look he remembered. Yet, he still didn't quite feel regretful over what he'd said to the newbie. He seemed to offend everyone sooner or later. Painful as it was, it eventually benefitted all; It drove them away from him, sparing them from his acid temper, and left him to the solitude he'd come to prize over the years.

Drowsiness tickled at his eyelids as his head rested on his crooked arm. Severus found himself dreaming of his soon-to-be filled wine goblet in front of him when Dumbledore entered the Hall. He serenely floated amongst the bobbing heads of students, his golden glasses winking off the delicate candlelight above. A warm smile touched the corner of his mouth as he nodded his head curtly from student to student. Behind him in tow followed an unfamiliar face to all gathered. The nervous fellow was wringing his hands quite shakily, yet Severus doubted anyone would have clocked his nervous tick first. On his head he wore a wrapped silken purple turban, an exotic look even for wizarding kind. Snape raised an eyebrow at the man and he almost seemed to wither at the sight of him.

"Staff…" Dumbledore began, addressing the teacher's table. "I wish to introduce the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher to you all. Professor Quirinus Quirrell." he gestured to the man and he stepped dutifully forward. A few staff members politely clapped him in welcome.

"Pppp-pleased to meet you all." Quirrell stuttered.

Snape groaned. _Bloody hell… This is the broken record Dumbledore has employed this year?_ He rolled his eyes and sighed to himself. _He'll be gone by Christmas._

"Professor, it looks like there is still a spare seat next to Severus" Dumbledore extended a long sleeve towards Snape. Severus narrowed his eyes to knife slits and glared with all his might at Albus. He pictured burying the knife and fork in front of him into the old man's back as they both took their seats.

"Ssssss-severus Snape, is it?" The turbaned man asked as he pulled up his chair. Severus sighed deeply again and reluctantly let himself be dragged into small talk once more.

"IIiiiii - I'm affffffffraid I've only been back in the ccccc-country for a short while. After all that nnnn-nasty business with that hag in the Black Forest in the summer."

"Quite the sabbatical, then." Severus added, hoping that would be the end of the man's ramblings. He had been beguiling Severus with his travelling tales for quite some time now. "Have you met the other new staff member?" He asked, desperate to change the conversation.

"The Ancient Studies tttttt-teacher? Oh yes, briefly. Looks like a nice girl. She sssshh-should be along shortly. Fixing her hair, you see." Quirrell giggled and tried to muster a wink at Severus.

"Hmm, she does own a comb then..." Severus added dryly.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Severus had noted that she wasn't here. Surely he'd not upset her _so_ much she didn't want to come out of her rooms? He'd debated going to fetch her himself, giving her a lecture in developing a thick skin. She'd need one if she was going to teach here… Perhaps he'd even intended to apologize if needs be. He was shaken from his thoughts of the girl as Quirrell leaned in close.

"You see, Severus, my grand tour last year was more of a hunt than a sabbatical."

_Good lord, we're back on this subject are we?_ Severus thought to himself.

"Mmmm, a hunt for what?" He asked, thoroughly disinterested.

"Not what. Who."

Snape's apathy melted away as he realized the man's stutter had suddenly disappeared. He said nothing, searching the man's face intently.

"As it happens, my friend, you and I now share more than just Dumbledore as an… employer." Quirrell paused, returning Severus's intense stare with a wicked smile.

"What?" Severus breathed.

The giant wooden doors of the Great Hall swung open once more and there, in all her glory, was Circe. Students and teachers alike all had their eyes on her as she began her walk to the professor's table. Her newly amended tartan gown billowed behind her in a modest bustle, giving the impression that she was almost floating. Just as she had wished, her dress hung alluringly off her shoulders and she had pinned up her hair to draw attention to its openness, letting a few curled strands fall about her neck. To complete the look, Minerva had leant her a pair of brown leather gloves and a deep crimson garnet brooch, which she had pinned gratefully to her chest. She tried to look as aloof as possible, walking in long swinging strides and pouting her painted lips. She finished her catwalk of triumph as she reached the staff table. For the briefest of moments she locked eyes with Severus. She squinted, the lids of her eyes now made up in wonderful smoky browns, and gave him the tartest side-eye she could muster. He closed his mouth hurriedly, thinking he'd regained his composure before she'd seen him. She'd seen it. Her mouth turned up in a smirk of triumph and she scoffed. If Severus had any colour left in his face, he would have turned bright red.

"My dear, what a resplendent gown." Professor Sprout acclaimed. "I daresay you'll have the well-earned attention and respect of all the young souls here tonight in such an outfit as that!"

"Oh this old thing?" Circe feigned modestly, moving behind the table. "Well… I do rather think that any teacher worth their salt should command respect from students even if they were wearing a hessian sack."

"Hear hear…" Dumbledore chimed in, winking at Circe.

Snape's fists clenched in his lap. She did not have to speak at him for him to know he had been thoroughly checked.

"Headmaster." Circe replied, bowing her head.

"My child, how good to see you again." Dumbledore cooed. "And looking so well."

"Oh I had a few moments before the Feast began. So I got a bit dressed up, and I thought…" she paused as she passed Severus's chair "... Harris tweed is so expensive. I really must wear it as much as I can to get my money's worth!"

A few professors laughed as Circe took her seat. Severus ground his teeth. Rather infuriatingly, she'd not graced him with a glance since her revenge-smirk. And it was all Severus could do to stop his eyes from wandering back to her bare neckline every few seconds.

Circe had barely been seated a minute before Mcgonagall entered, the First Years in tow. How baby faced and bushy-tailed they all looked. Circe watched as she saw many of their heads lean back, staring at amazement at the bewitched roof of the Great Hall. She remembered with fondness her first day at Hogwarts and her own sorting ceremony. The wonder of seeing it all for the first time, the excitement of finding a pace in your true wizarding family from the mouth of the Sorting Hat… She sighed happily to herself and continued to watch as they chatted merrily amongst themselves. Amongst them, stark and easily identifiable thanks to his untidy mop of Beatle-like black hair was The Boy Who Lived. _Good Lord, he does look like his father…_ A burst of embarrassment ran through her as Harry looked up from his conversations with the red haired boy next to him, straight at the staff table. For a second, she thought he was staring back at her and she'd been caught gawking at him, but no... He was looking at…

She stole a glance over to Severus. The poor man looked even paler than normal, and a damn sight more shocked than he had been by her entrance. He looked like a rabbit in the headlights as he stared with utmost intensity back at the boy. Perhaps he was having the same thoughts she was, but he looked a damn sight more stunned, arrested...Longing, even. It was odd to say the least. And, almost as if it had never happened and she'd completely imagined it, their eye contact was broken. Snape went back to his conversation with the turbaned man beside him, and Potter to his newfound friends.

Circe suddenly felt like she was watching something she wasn't meant to see. Something had changed about Snape's countenance and composure. Perhaps it was the fidgeting bounce in his leg beneath the table. Perhaps it was the far off look in his eye as he pretended to listen. She suddenly felt very foolish at her whole Cinderella revenge fantasy she'd cooked up. She slumped back in her chair as Mcgonagall began alphabetically reading through the First Year names for sorting. Circe dutifully applauded as each new Ravenclaw was acclaimed and went bounding off to their table, and seeing their unbridled joy pass their little faces lifted her spirits somewhat. Still, her heart felt heavy as she watched in fascination at Potter's sorting. The hat was quiet for a full two minutes, most sorting was complete in a few seconds. It was almost torturous to all watching. From the corner of her eye, she clocked that Snape's bouncing leg had stopped. _What is he expecting?_ She thought to herself. The room erupted into chaos as the hat finally attributed Potter to Gryffindor. _Oh good, at least he's with the red haired boy_. She thought to herself. The young man bounded over to his friend and what looked like a selection of older red haired brothers and sisters, who welcomed him with open arms. All at once Circe felt the bittersweet taste of nostalgia in her mouth. _I had a family like that here once too… until I forsook it._

* * *

The Feast had been a spectacular affair and Circe felt practically stuffed full of delicious sweets and treats and more than a few generous helpings of wine. Yet, as the students shuffled out of the room, led by the prefects, Dumbledore cornered her before she could sneak off to bed.

"My dear, I wondered if you would join us for a little staff meeting in my office when the students are all in bed."

"I'm afraid I was never important enough to know where your office was, Headmaster." Circe replied.

He laughed and passed on the instructions to her.

A few hours later, after a quick change into something decidedly more average, Circe emerged from the griffin entrance of Dumbledore's office. There sat awaiting the old Headmaster was Professor Sprout, Flitwick, Mcgonagall and…. of course, Snape. Their heads turned as one to greet her and Circe thought she saw Severus's eyes widen in shock.

"Circe, come and sit!" Mcgonagall waved her over. Of course the only vacant seat was next to Snape.

She moved over to the vacant chair and reluctantly took her seat. She crossed her legs and sighed, avoiding his eyes. Severus cleared his throat. He desperately searched for something to say to her to bridge the gap he had helped to create, but was falling woefully short. His searching thoughts halted as he checked himself. _Why do you care? She's no one to add one more enemy to the ever-surmounting list._ And he let the silence continue.

A few moments later, Dumbledore arrived and greeted his guests. He offered his "evenings" to all as he dutifully placed the Sorting Hat back in its place, ready to await the sorting ceremony next year.

"I trust you all realise why I have called you here." Dumbledore began as he lowered himself into the golden chair behind his desk.

"Oh yes, Headmaster…" Pomona replied. "The Devil's Snare I have planted has taken quite nicely and should be ready to-"

"I believe the Headmaster asked us _not_ to discuss our plans for our level of protection with each other." Minerval cut in, fixing Pomona with a stern stare.

"Yes, so no one of any of us knows too much information about what is protecting the Stone." Flitwick chimed in.

"Um I'm sorry, but what's going on?" Circe asked tentatively.

Silence fell as all eyes turned to her.

"Severus, would you care to explain to our new faculty member…?" Dumbledore turned to Snape expectantly. Circe heard him sigh as he begrudgingly turned to face her. Their eyes met and Circe felt her breath catch in her throat as it had done when he'd looked at her like that before…

"The school has been bestowed with protecting the Philosopher's Stone. Headmaster Dumbledore acquired it during the summer and has asked all of us here gathered to each contribute a level of protection to keep the Stone from harm."

"The Philosopher's Stone…?" Circe breathed. "Nicholas Flamel has finally relinquished it after all these years?"

"You know of Flamel?" Minerva asked, surprised.

"Well she is here to teach Ancient Studies…" Snape commented dryly. "And Flamel is nothing if not ancient."

"And considering your substantial expertise on these matters, Professor Smith.." Dumbledore fixed her with his knowing gaze, "I would also like to ask you to add your own protective magic to the Stone's defenses."

"Protection from what?" Circe asked, folding her arms.

Severus's head snapped up and he fixed Dumbledore with a knowing look. Albus looked to Severus, and then to Minerva who nodded slowly.

"It is possible, Professor, that a very dangerous and dark wizard has learnt of the Stone's existence and seeks out its life-prolonging properties."

Circe was quiet for a long time. She felt the blood in her veins turn icy as a thought passed through her mind. _Surely not…_

"Voldemort…?" she breathed. Professor Sprout and Flitwick flinched at the mention of the name. Severus remained unmoving, watching her now more intently than ever.

"All we have to go on currently is just rumours and speculation. But yes, that is whom we suspect."

"But… How? I thought he was gone after-"

"I'm afraid, Professor Smith, that that is a conversation for another day." Dumbledore raised his hand, halting her question. It was infuriating for her to be dismissed in such a manner but she reluctantly swallowed the sleight and breathed in deeply.

"Well, of course Headmaster. I shall think of something."

"Excellent." Dumbledore chimed in a startlingly chipper tone. "Minerva shall show you how to find and access the Stone's protection chambers when you need it. And of course, I hope it does not bear repeating how secrecy is of the utmost importance of our work here."

"No, of course Headmaster."

"Excellent. Well I shan't keep you all from your beds any longer. It has been a long and tiring day for many of us, I'm sure." Circe moved to go, aching for her bed. "Oh actually before I forget…!" Dumbledore added, freezing her in her tracks. "Severus, Circe, a word with both of you before you go."

Circe balled her fists and closed her eyes. She breathed deep again to center herself before turning to stand before Dumbledore's desk, Severus waiting expectantly next to her. His presence felt heavy and looming beside her. The other professors shuffled out of the room, leaving them alone with the Headmaster.

"I had rather hoped to speak to you both before the start of term. But other pressing issues took priority over… curriculum matters." Dumbledore began.

"Headmaster…?" Snape questioned in his slow drawl.

"You see, although we value your expertise in relation to the Stone's protection, Cire. It seems that the students here at Hogwarts are less appreciative."

"Sorry Headmaster, am I employed to teach here or not?" She asked impatiently. She'd heard speeches like this before. Normally followed by a timetable cut…

"Oh of course, Professor. But uptake of the OWL in Ancient Studies has not been as popular as we'd hoped."

"Yes, probably because Professor Babbling had a talent of making any topic as dull as dishwater." Snape added.

"Well, possibly…" Dumbledore conceded. "Nevertheless, your predecessor did not do favors for your subject and you currently only have three classes on your timetable to teach."

Circe signed. "So what does this mean for me, Headmaster." She asked, her irritation up.

"Well, I certainly hope very much you still wish to continue to teach here. And considering you have rather a lot of free time on your timetable, I thought it would be a good idea to make you an honorary member of the Potions department."

"I'm sorry?" She asked, surprise plain on her face. Snape said nothing, but shock plastered on his stark features also.

"Potions is a core subject, large classes, always popular uptake in official exam years. It could only be beneficial to students for you to split-teach or assist in some of Severus's classes."

"You mean… working with one another?"

"Liaising, planning, assisting with ingredient preparation. All things that you complain to no end about, Severus."

"Yes, but hardly tasks that will ease my workload if I have to preside over a novice at each turn." He added curtly, casting a side-eye at Circe.

"Hardly a novice, Severus. Circe informed me on her CV that she studied Potions up to NEWTS level."

"Yes, but that was a long time ago Headmaster."

"Oh come now, I believe you are selling yourself short. I'm sure it's like learning to ride a bike, you'll pick it up again in no time."

"Do I have any choice in the matter?" Severus asked through clenched teeth.

"Well of course. But I really don't think I could justify paying a full time salary to a teacher that only has three classes on their timetable to the Governors, Severus. I'm afraid they'd ask for Professor Smith's dismissal."

Circe was fuming. She'd left her life In Edinburgh behind for this. And what happens next year if uptake was poor again? If her and Professor Snape hadn't torn each other's throats out before then. Of course, if he conceded to allow her to teach some of his lessons… She didn't feel hopeful in this regard. Her heart sank at the thought of having to leave Hogwarts again so soon after coming back home. Perhaps Edinburgh castle would take her back on if she begged them...

"Then I suppose I shall allow it."

Snape's reply startled her. She snapped her downcast eyes up from her feet and looked at him. Utterly lost for words, all she could do was stare at him. His face betrayed nothing, a perfect mask of composure. How she wished she could crack open his skull to read his thoughts at that exact moment.

"Splendid!" Dumbledore declared, throwing his hands up into the air. "I shall send out the necessary information and changes to students timetables accordingly."

"Are we finished here?" Snape asked cooly.

"I believe so."

"Then I shall excuse myself for the night. Professor. Headmaster." He nodded curtly to both and strode from the room before either could make their replies. Circe was left still speechless in his wake.

"Well…" Dumbledore began, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "I'm sure this is the start of a wonderful working relationship between you both."


	3. "We spoke of was and when"

Chapter 3 - "We spoke of was and when."

It was a cool but crisp October morning. The sun shone from a brilliantly blue sky and golden brown leaves drifted and danced in the breeze outside Circe's window. She was having a leisurely morning reading Hemingway, sipping on a coffee Minerva had made for her and plugged into her Walkman. She adored sitting in their conservatory, curled up in one of the elephant armchairs on those rare mornings when she didn't have to be up for teaching. Despite the ever encroaching chill of autumn, the glass room was warm and cozy. A Moveable Feast was enrapturing. And No Doubt was turned up loud.

Nevertheless, she'd eventually have to move for her weekend chores. Mercifully, she hadn't been required for breakfast duty this weekend. It had been a long week of teaching and she wanted a break as much as her new students did. She was not disappointed with her classes; a relatively bright bunch who had a good grasp of runic to boot. She'd given them a reading list as long as her arm, which they weren't exactly happy about. But, as she'd been lucky enough to have small classes, she'd developed something of a rapport with them. Quite impressive considering she'd only been at Hogwarts for just over four weeks. She got all of her student gossip from Percy Weasley's class. He liked to show off to her how he'd been flexing his prefect privileges with the younger years. So she consequently knew which student was going out with who, who was out of their bed late at night and who was still getting packages delivered by their mum every day. She could only imagine how the students would be a buzz after Potter's exploits yesterday… She couldn't wait to pass that tidbit on.

Her work in the Potions department had also been a much smoother transition than she'd originally imagined. Something akin to a truce had settled between her and Severus since the evening in Dumbledore's office. She knew her future at the school depended on how well they worked together and she was grateful that he'd given her a chance and not merely dismissed her out of spite. And Dumbledore had been right, of course. It did come back to her almost immediately. The brewing, the steeping, the cutting, infusing, measuring… the subtleties of the art were never lost on her and Severus very rarely had to check her work now.

Although, watching Severus's teaching style was something she'd had to learn very quickly to bite her tongue over. He was, quite frankly, brutal. Using fear and embarrassment in his teaching method as substitutes for praise. The classes with the First Years were the hardest for her to assist him with. Poor Longbottom looked almost ready to wet himself; he appeared so frightened of Snape. Then there had been that first lesson with Potter… quizzing him on asphodel and bezoars and wormwood. Things that should be wildly above his level. What was the point of it? Just to humiliate the kids? Nevertheless, Circe did not dream of stepping in and undermining him in his own classroom. It was an unspoken rule of teaching. Still, it was plain to see the relief wash over the student's faces when it was Circe's turn on the timetable to teach and leave Snape with some planning and prep time.

Thoughts of the First Year classes made her sigh to herself and she reluctantly closed her book. There were things that needed checking before she saw them on Monday. She drained her coffee and rose to dress. She pulled out a casual outfit and finished it by donning her signature tartan coat, now back in its original shape. She tied her hair up in a half ponytail, pulling out a few strands of curls to frame her face and finished with a small splash of warm red lipstick. _Well, this is what the weekend's for isn't it?_ She thought. Her backpack lay by the chair of her desk, now thoroughly worn-in with papers, books and her photographs. She grabbed it swiftly and strode out of her room.

She passed few faces as she walked down to the dungeons. Many students were still in bed enjoying a lie-in into the mid morning. When she herself was a student it was rare that she saw anything before midday on the weekend. She laughed at memories of being woken up with her roomates' slippers thrown at her face. Of course, now she was older it was different. She liked the mornings to go walking in the grounds or double check her lesson plans for the day. She liked being busy.

Circe descended into the dungeons and walked into Severus's classrooms. The space was quiet, thirty or so empty cauldrons perched on top of the desks with the stools tucked neatly beneath them. Circe always thought an empty classroom felt weird so she moved through the space as quickly as she could and went on to the preparation and storeroom. It was a space for staff only, lined from floor to ceiling with ingredients in neatly labelled jars and barrels. In here, they stored the ingredients that were too dangerous to be left out in the classroom. Many of the items were pickled or preserved in viscous green liquid which bathed the space in a strange swampy glow. Circe dropped her bag onto the floor and moved to the table at the far end of the room. There, just as she'd left it a few days ago, were several vials of a steeped orange substance. She picked up one experimentally and held it close to her face. Floating at the bottom of the vial was a fizzing pixie eye. She nodded, pleased with the results.

"You really shouldn't hold that so close to your eye…"

Circe started and almost dropped the glass tube. She spun around and there standing in the shadows was Severus.

"Jesus, Severus, you startled me…"

He grumbled something inaudible and moved into the greenish light. It gave his face a sickly lime tinge and Circe saw his face was already set into a reproachful scowl. "Why is that?" She asked, deciding to humour him.

"It's steeped pixie venom. If any of that gets on to your skin it will start eating away at your flesh."

"Oh it's not that strong. It's for the First Years after all."

"Yes, well.. I personally wouldn't want to risk my eyesight in a careless moment."

Circe rolled her eyes. Of course Severus couldn't resist a little dig like that. For all her skill in his department, she was, and had earned the reputation over the years, of being a little bit clumsy. Not a clutz, not reckless, but she had smashed a few bottles here and there. Once she'd knocked over a cauldron and Severus had come barreling over to her station ready to eviscerate the student he'd presumed had done it; he had had to reluctantly swallow down his venom when he realised Circe was the one responsible.

"You're here early." Circe commented, picking up and examining a few other vials at a safer distance.

"No rest for the wicked." Severus replied flatly.

Circe laughed, although something about Severus's tone made her think he wasn't joking.

"Did the mugwort and lavender delivery arrive?" She asked, quickly pushing past the issue.

"This morning. I've been cataloguing it since seven."

"Seven?!" Circe asked incredulously.

"MmmHmm"

"Bloody hell, Severus, do you ever have a day off?"

"Not when there is work to be done. And there is always work to be done."

"You should have told me it was arriving today. I would have done it myself after I'd checked these." She held up the orange vials in demonstration. "You could have had the morning off at least."

Severus stopped what he was doing for the briefest of seconds. There was no way he was telling her he very rarely stopped working or took time off at all. Because, after all, who did he have to spend time with? When he stopped, his thoughts tended to stray to more unhappy times. A quiet mind was something he dreaded because it often led to memories slipping into the quietness. Still, something stirred in his chest at Circe's offer. No one had offered to help with his work before, even though they all knew he was always busy. Then again, he'd actively encouraged others to leave him alone with spitefulness and rudeness. He reaped what he'd sewn. But had he not tried to do that with Circe on that first day they'd met? And yet here she was, offering kindness despite it all. He was not quite sure how to respond to it.

Circe waited for a reply that never came. _Perhaps I said something wrong_ , she thought to herself. She grasped around internally for something else to say.

"Oh! Did you hear about what happened in Rolanda's lesson yesterday?"

Severus groaned in response. "Is this more meaningless prattle you've picked up from the students?"

"Oh shush! You're not above a bit of gossip, just like me."

He groaned again and continued with his packaging and sorting. Circe took his silence as invitation enough to continue.

"So, apparently the Longbottom boy broke his wrist about two minutes into the lesson.."

"I'm sure that'll be a record of moronicity even for him."

"You have to stop picking on Longbottom, Severus. Anyway, shush! So Rolanda has to escort him to the hospital wing and leave the other kids on the pitch alone. That kid that you like was there, you know… the albino-looking one."

"Malfoy?"

"Yes, that's it. Well, he's provoking Potter and the other Gryffindors. I don't know about what exactly, but Potter and Malfoy go flying off on their brooms chasing each other."

Severus turned to face her, a quizzical eyebrow raised.

"I know!" She said, getting excited by her own story and Severus's apparent interest. "And well, they're throwing something about in the sky and Potter goes flying past Minerva's window at full speed."

"Dare I hope that Potter was given an expulsion and reprimanded with the loss of house points?"

"Pfft! This is Minerva we're talking about. No. Come on, what's been her brainchild for the past few years?"

"She didn't…"

"She absolutely did! He's on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team as the new Seeker."

Severus's stomach turned. _Just like his father,_ he thought bitterly.

"Rotten apples never fall far from the tree." He hissed. Circe turned and watched him at his work. He seemed unsettled and irritated now. More so than he should be about an upstart First Year getting luckily appointed to the Quidditch team.

"So you knew the Potters then?" She asked tentatively.

"I did." It was a curt response.

"You were in school with them?"

"Yes."

She paused for a second, wondering why the whole mood of the room had just shifted.

"They were in their last year when I started my First…" she began. "I didn't see them much but gosh… I remember them as if they were the King and Queen of Hogwarts." She laughed to herself, not noticing that Severus's knuckles were white around the shelf he held on to. "Lily was the kind of Head Girl we all looked up to. She looked so grown up and pretty to me when I was eleven. Especially as she had a boyfriend! And James was-"

"A loathsome little toad." Snape spat.

"What?" Circe asked, confused. "I didn't interact with him that much, but he was always-"

"Well I unfortunately did and he was a bully and a thug."

"Oh…" Circe felt at a loss for words. "Well I never saw anything like that going on when-"

"What? Is it different to the hero-worship claptrap you've heard about him since he had the good grace to die? Different to how you remember him from when you were _eleven?!_ Passed him in the corridors twice, did you, and now you're his character witness?"

_You don't even remember me from back then, do you?_ He thought sourly to himself. His blood boiled and he fought to keep from shouting all sorts of vitriol at her. He raged silently to himself and turned his back on her, burying himself in his work again.

Circe was speechless. She'd touched a nerve but dared not ask why it still hurt. Colour rose in her cheeks as embarrassment flushed her face. She felt meek again. Prey to his predator once more. But this time instead of feeling angry at her inaction, she just felt a deep sadness. She put down the orange vial she had been holding and picked up her backpack from the floor. Wordlessly she moved past Severus with downcast eyes.

She sighed heavily as she reached the threshold of the storeroom. "What a shame, Severus..."

He turned his head to face her, but his anger subsided slightly as he saw he'd upset her once again.

"It was almost like we were getting along then."

His mouth hung open, but he made no reply. Instead turning back to his shelves. Circe turned and left.

* * *

The rest of her day Circe planned to spend wandering the grounds around Hogwarts. She filled up a small flask of coffee from the Staff Room, now being on decidedly better terms with the brass menagerie than she had been on her first day. Yet she still kept her previously scalded hand in her pocket when the bronze bird whistled and spouted steam. Her brewed java sat at the bottom of her backpack, along with her book and a pair of gloves. She resolved to relentlessly march on with her plans for the rest of the day, but her run in with Severus was like a thorn in her mind.

She kicked at the brown and orange leaves on the floor, whipping them up around her. She didn't know exactly where she was walking to but if she consciously decided to wander aimlessly, she didn't remember doing it. Her head was still spinning with thoughts of Severus. How did someone become so bitter and vicious? It knawed away at her as she passed over the wooden bridge and continued out towards Hagrid's Hut. She would have told him off for speaking ill of the dead had she not seen the agonising and unfathomable sadness behind his eyes. It made her own soul ache just remembering his parting look.

She was astute enough to realise that something must have passed between him and the late James Potter. But the dead have a bad habit of being unavailable to ask for clarification. As eager as she was for gossip, it seemed that this was something she should naturally avoid asking about. Who would she ask anyway? _And why does it matter?_ She thought to herself. _He's my colleague. You don't need to know. Just keep it professional_. But she knew within her heart of hearts that she would be unhappy with that resolution. She sat down amongst the standing stones and pulled out her book. She looked wistfully down at A Moveable Feast, dog eared and yellowed with age and love. It seemed that Circe spent most of her waking moments longing for something or somewhere she wasn't or didn't have. She almost enjoyed the feeling of the bittersweet nostalgia it conjured. Today it was Paris in the 1920's. Last month it was Hogwarts. _You are never happy with what you've got,_ she chided herself.

" _The only thing that could spoil a day was people and if you could keep from making engagements, each day had no limits. People were always the limiters of happiness except for the very few that were as good as spring itself."_

She laughed to herself at just how on-point Hemingway was...

She passed an hour or two lost in the pages of her book, until the air grew heavy around her with rain. She cast a thoughtful eye up to the sky, now stained with granite coloured clouds. She hastily tidied her things away as the sky began to rumble. The first fat spots of water were beginning to strike her head when the door to Hagrid's Hut in the valley below swung open.

"OI! GET IN 'ERE!" Hagrid called up to her, a pink apron tied around his thick waist.

Circe ran to the hut, careful not to slip down the rapidly wettening grassy bank. Hagrid left his door open and welcoming to her and the smell of fire smoke hit her in the face as she shook the water from her coat.

"Oh cheers, Hagrid. I don't think I'd have made it back to the castle before the downpour."

"Ahhh sit down. I'm just about t' ave a brew."

She slumped down into an empty armchair by the fire. Fang lumbered over to her and placed his massive head onto her lap. She gave him a hearty head rub and laughed as he panted happily back at her.

"'Aven't seen you since your first day. 'Ow 'ave ye been?"

"Oh fine… fine. I mean, it was a bit of a shock finding out that I didn't have the uptake that I wanted.."

"Ahh yeah I 'eard that you've been busy helpin' Professor Snape.." Hagrid said with a playful smirk. He handed a giant mug of tea to Circe. "Sugar?"

"No, thank you." she took it gratefully, letting it warm her hands. "Ugh, can I have a bit of a whinge, Hagrid?"

"Course." he replied, sinking into the armchair in front of her.

"Severus…"

"Let me guess… He's been a rude ol' git with the temper of a Horntail with a sore head."

"Good Lord, how does anyone stand it from him? The man's sixty percent sarcasm and forty percent Shakespearean villain. And the poor students… If he'd been teaching in a muggle school he would have had a disciplinary for inappropriate behaviour years ago."

Well, I don't know about all o' that." Hagrid sighed, "But aint it true what they say about the bullied becoming the bully." Hagrid punctuated his wisdom with a sip of his tea. Circe thought for a moment, chewing over what the giant had said. She almost didn't have to ask her next question.

"By Harry's father?"

"And the others in that group. Sirius Black and James mostly." Circe nodded her head slowly. "Scone?"

"What?"

"Fruit scone? I made 'em this afternoon."

Hagrid pulled himself up out of his chair and took a tin off one of the shelves that lined his hut. He popped open the lid and offered it out to Circe. She took a scone gratefully but had to hide her grimace as she bit into it. It was rock hard…

"Still, it ain't fair to take it all out on kids is it? Aint their fault what happened to 'im."

"Indeed…" Circe replied, looking into the fire.

"I mean, look at poor 'arry. Those wicked Dursleys 'ave used and abused 'im ever since he was old enough to stand, and look at 'im. I don't there's a bad bone in his body."

"A bit foolhardy and reckless...but what Gryffindor isn't?"

Hagrid laughed and looked at Circe's face for a short while. She looked lost as her green eyes searched the dancing flames.

"Are you alright there?" he asked gently. "He's not been a brute to you, 'as he? If he 'as I could give 'im a right old thumpin-"

"No, no…" she lied, rationing it was probably in everyone's best interests that she didn't get Severus's head kicked in. The memory of his sad, lonely eyes tugged at her heartstrings once again. She tried to push the thought away, but once again she found herself totally encapsulated by thoughts of Severus. "He's just...difficult."

"Hagrid…! Hagrid!" A crooning voice came from outside in the gloom and wet. "I beseech you for succor!" The woman's voice was banging on the door as Hagrid hurriedly rose to meet it. The wind and rain bowled around the Hut as Minerva stepped through into the small room. The older lady was almost soaked through to the skin and she gratefully accepted a blanket and warm steaming mug of tea from Hagrid.

"Well that's the final sale on the house in Hogsmeade done and dusted." Minerva explained after the warmth returned to her fingers. Sold to a lovely young couple with a baby, she went on to explain to them. The rain had just started in earnest as she'd made her way back up to the castle. She relaxed into the armchair and let out a long sigh of resignation.

"You lived in Hogsmeade?" Circe asked.

"With my late husband Elphinistone."

"Oh Minerva, I'm sorry…"

"Oh don't be, child." Minerva replied with a small smile on her lips. "Elphinistone and I didn't have much time together, but the time we did have, in that house, was happy."

"When you eventually _did_ agree to marry 'im." Hagrid teased. Minerva chuckled and playfully swatted Hagrid with the back of her hand.

"I've always wondered where the married Professors live." Circe pondered. "Being a teacher at Hogwarts seems like a bit of a bachelor's job."

"You're quite right." Minerva replied. "The Professor's life hardly lends itself to spouses and families. But yes, I was quite lucky that there was a quaint little idyllic highland village in walking distance of Hogwarts where I could hide my husband away!"

Circe and Hagrid both laughed.

Circe mentally went through all of her colleagues: Divorced, widowed, separated… The only eligible young singleton was… _Severus_. The thought came screaming into her head and she fought to keep the image of his dark, harsh, but not wholly unattractive features from her mind's eye. There was something decidedly Byronic about him, for sure. She felt her chest flutter at this inner concession and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"I bet you left quite a few young men behind in Edinburgh." Minerva asked, peering over her glasses.

"Pfft! Hardly…" Circe replied dismissively, but still blushing a deep red. She felt like Minerva was a mind-reader sometimes. "Once you know the spell to open your own jars, men become obsolete rather quickly."

"Oi!" Hagrid interjected.

The two women laughed.

"Oh, you do remind me of myself when I was your age, you know." Minerva added with a far-away smile.

"Oh Hagrid, I needed your assistance with something important." She fixed the giant with a determined look that snapped her from her reminiscing.

"Oh I've already moved Fluffy up to the-"

"No no that's not it." Minerva cut in quickly. She cast a quick look over to Circe and she realised any behaviour so secretive from Mcgonagall must have something to do with the Stone. Not that I mattered. Nothing of what Hagrid said made sense to her. Circe put her fingers in her ears.

"I didn't hear anything!" She shouted jokily.

Minerva tutted to herself, content that she had not caused a breech in secrecy.

"No...Having just sold my home, I find myself in quite the generous mood. No doubt you heard about our new Seeker?"

"I did…" Circe said, offering her to continue.

"Well, Potter barely has enough clean shirts to get him through the week, let alone enough money to buy a full Quidditch kit and a broom. Luckily, Wood managed to kit him out with items from the lost-and-found, so that only leaves..."

"A broom? You're going to buy him a broom?"

"Not just _a_ broom. I want to get that boy the _best_ broom. A Nimbus 2000."

"Bloody hell! That'll set y'back a few paychecks."

"Well you see, my problem is… I can't be seen to be buying it myself. A bit unethical, you see, to be buying gifts for students."

"Hmm favouritism and all that…" Circe added, peering over her own glasses at Minerva.

"Quite. So I need someone else to place the order at Broomstix."

"Broomstix in Diagon Alley?" Circe asked thoughtfully.

"Of course. If I write to the goblins in Gringotts and leave instructions for them, Hagrid could you-"

"Wait, hang on. I might know someone at Broomstix." Circe interrupted.

Minerva pursed her lips in surprise. "Who?"

"Myron." Circe said simply.

"Oh good lord. That bohemian-type that you used to hang about with when you were in school?"

"Yeah, that's him…"

"Didn't ye used t'play music together? Up in the courtyard just outside the Staff Room." Hagrid scratched his head.

"Yeah…" Circe blushed slightly. "Still do sometimes. Not here, I mean. At pubs and gig venues when we can."

"What is it you used t' call yerselves?" Hagrid asked, beaming from ear to ear.

"... The Weird Sisters."

Minerva let out a small giggle and covered her mouth demurely.

"So he's working in Broomstix is he?"

"When he can't get gigs, yeah."

"Wonderful."

"I'll write to him, if you want? Ask him if he can give us mate's-rates on the Nimbus 2000?"

"Oh would you? That would be spectacular."

_Potter better be the best Seeker this side of the century,_ Circe thought.


	4. "If so, if so. Who answers? Who answers?"

Chapter 4 - "If so, if so. Who answers? Who answers?"

Circe's birthday was on Hallowe'en. Her whole life she'd been fighting against a beloved holiday for attention on that special day. When she was a young girl she'd often had to abandon any hopes for a party as most of her friends wanted to go trick or treating. Her Hogwarts years too had been overshadowed by ghouls and ghosts and pumpkin pasties. Today, however, she was grateful for the distraction. Like every relentlessly aging twenty-something, she'd come to dread birthdays. A flurry of letters and presents had been deposited for her at the staff table in the Great Hall and luckily it all blended in quite unremarkably into the mass of sweets, treats and other Hallowe'en foods. She kicked the brown parcels under the table hurriedly as she took her seat, eager to conceal them from the other staff members. Circe would rather die than forcibly withstand a round of 'Happy Birthday' whilst she sat in her seat awkwardly not knowing what to do with herself. She looked around for any sign of recognition of her gifts and cards, or potential singers waiting in the wings. No one looked her way. She sighed, deeply relieved.

Students busied themselves with chatter and consuming as many chocolate covered delicacies as they could. Teacher's too were similarly distracted. Minerva chatted away to Dumbledore as they poured each other a tumbler of whiskey: a special staff holiday treat. Circe had the far end of the staff table to herself and poured out a drum of the dark oaky spirit. She took a sip as she stared through the orangey glow of the liquid at the bottom of her glass, gazing up at the softly spinning pumpkins suspended in the ceiling space. She privately tore open one of the letters waiting for her and began to read.

" _Dear Circe,_

_Happy Birthday, love. Come and see me and Jane and the boys when you're settled in to your new job._

_The young men down in HMV tell me this is the album of the year. Not sure what I think of it myself, but I hope you'll enjoy it._

_Lots of love,_

_Dad."_

Circe smiled and felt a small ache in her chest. It had been a while since she'd seen her Dad and she missed him. Way before she'd left Edinburgh, in fact. The last time they'd spoken was to let him know of her change of address, and that was a fair few weeks back. She again internally cursed wizarding kind for its outright phobia of telephones. _I bet Ziggy gave him quite the fright when he dropped my new details through the letterbox._ She mused to herself. _Still, he must have given my presents and card back to him to deliver here. That must have been a hard one to explain away to Jane..._ She delved under the table and pulled out a small CD sized parcel. Tearing open the paper, she revealed a murky red album cover. "Pearl Jam. Ten." she read aloud. She turned it over in her hands and nodded in approval. Circe popped open the CD to check the contents inside and out fell a fair few muggle twenty pound notes. _Oh, Dad… That's too much!_ Grateful as she was for the gift of money, it would be difficult to spend amongst wizarding kind. She methodically went through the rest of her cards and letters from a variety of old friends and distant relatives. She picked apart a small rolled up scroll, bound with a red ribbon.

_Dear Cee,_

_Happy to oblige on the Nimbus discount. Should have arrived at Hogwarts a few days ago._

_Hope he loves it! Remember your end of the deal though!_

_And happy birthday, you dickhead._

_See you soon for rehearsals hahahaha!_

_Myron_

_Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

After she'd finished reading, the paper crumpled in her hands of its own accord and suddenly re-shaped itself into a face. It spurted a few firework-like bangs of colour from its mouth and Circe turned pale as her face dropped into an expressionless gasp. A few of the staff nearest to her turned towards the commotion.

"Oh fuck… A singerler." Like their more nastily-intentioned counterparts, howlers, singerlers were often sent to small children on their birthdays to… well… sing. Loudly.

The letter's mouth opened wide and seemed to draw in breath. Circe could do nothing but stare at it in ever-encroaching horror. Wishing the ground would open up and swallow her whole, she resigned herself to the utter embarrassment of what was to come.

"HAP—"

Suddenly, a great black wall descended in the space between her and those looking, shielded her from prying eyes. Snape threw his outer cloak over the letter, smothering it instantly and burying the noise it made under a deep layer of fabric.

"Pretend you're talking to me and they'll leave you alone" Severus said in a low voice.

"Are any of the kids looking?" she asked, not daring to look up from her lap and check herself.

"No, too busy stuffing profiteroles into their mouths." She laughed and relaxed slightly. Circe finally raised her head once her face had stopped burning and she was a hundred percent sure the singerler had stopped its muffled noises from beneath Snape's cloak. Severus was regarding her closely, looking down his arrow sharp nose into her face. "Are congratulations in order?" he asked, amusement lacing his words.

"I'm not pregnant." she joked.

Severus shifted in his chair and raised a brow, eyes wide. Circe felt a small swell of pride that she'd managed to make him feel slightly uncomfortable. He avoided her eyes, not quite sure where to look or what to say.

"No… I meant..I…"

"It's my birthday." Circe said, finally putting him out of his misery.

"Oh…" he cleared his throat. "Would you like me to wish you-"

"No. Thank you though."

He nodded his head in approval. The very faintest of smiles touching his lips.

"From some ghastly relative?" He asked, pointing at the crumple of his cloak on the floor. She groaned, giving it a final kick for good measure.

"No… uh an old school friend. Always was a bit of a showman."

"Yes I did rather figure that out."

Their lessons together since the run-in in the store room had been professional, minimal in communication, lacking in any of the budding rapport or familiarity that had been briefly hinted at. Their work together was incredibly efficient, and produced good results. But Circe didn't want their time together to be like a dental appointment… but dared she hope for anything resembling a friendship? _Is that even possible with my Byronic colleague?_ She thought to herself. " _MY" Byronic colleague…_ she realised she'd thought. Perhaps it was worth trying to extend an olive branch.

"Yeah.. he helped to...attain Harry's broom for his first match."

"Oh I see.." Severus said sourly. Both of their eyes wandered towards the Potter boy, eating merrily amongst his fellow Gryffindors. "That was you, was it? I suspected Minerva didn't act on her own. The boy really should have it confiscated. Favoritism is not something we do here." Her olive branch may as well have lay snapped in two on the flagstones between them.

"That's rather rich coming from you." She replied defensively. "And anyway Minerva had nothing to do with it…It-it was my idea... " Circe tried to backpedal, rushing and stumbling over her words.

"Don't. Lie. To me.." Snape said forcefully and ever. so. slowly... "I can tell when someone is lying through their teeth, and you are a very poor actress, Professor Smith."

"Alright. Fine, I won't." She squared up to him, her eyes now firmly locked on to his. She found her innermost braveness, and met him head on. "But I am also not going to be intimidated by you, Severus."

Snape's eyes narrowed and he felt his words die in his throat. Her eyes were a-fire with a determination he had never seen from her. It was the look of a warrior staring battle in the face and she damn near glowed with fierceness. For the first time he looked at her like a true equal.

A true huntress, she refused to let him out of her eyesight and did not back down first. He relinquished to her and sighed, breaking eye contact first and leaning back into his chair. It felt quite novel to Severus, to have someone demand anything of him. It had been quite some years since he'd allowed anybody to speak to him like that. Yet something within him broke for her, but it was more of a release than a break. Not a concession or an embarrassment, but something wholly more interesting. Before then he had tolerated her. Now, he rather respected her. She refused to be bullied by him.

She felt his eyes drift all the way down to her toes and then back up to her face. Incredibly ardent and probing, tieing her stomach in knots. Feeling his anger disperse, she too relaxed back into her chair and reached for her tumbler. Severus's hand was around it before she could grasp it herself. He smirked coyly as he touched the whiskey to his lips.

"Well, I suppose even the best broom in the world won't help him if he's a clumsy little butter fingers." He said, peering at her from over the rim of the glass. "Shame his first public humiliation will be at the hands of the Slytherin team."

She sighed exasperatedly, unable to stop herself from smirking too. "A "shame" Severus? Or a match you won't be able to take your eyes off?"

Despite himself, he let out a small laugh.

"It seems we've come to an understanding of one another, Professor." Circe put delicately, pouring herself a new whiskey and gesturing to Severus, asking him if he wanted a refill.

"You know," he purred, extending his glass out to her, "I rather think we have."

They cordially clinked glasses. She'd known a fair few eccentric academics who blew hot and cold with their moods, but Severus was something else entirely!

"Happy Birthday, Circe." It was the first time Severus had referred to her by her first name and it did not go unnoticed. She knew that the comment was first and foremost a knowing dig at her obvious dislike for her day of aging, but it nevertheless felt like something one friend might say to another in banter…

"TROLL IN THE SCHOOL!"

They were both snapped out of their exchange by the scream of terror that echoed off the Great Hall's walls.

"THERE'S A TROLL IN THE SCHOOL!" Quirrell came barrelling into view, stopping short of Dumbledore at the staff table's head. Dumbledore, as well as a number of other staff members, Severus included, rose to their feet in alarm. A pregnant pause of silence followed in which all six hundred or so people in that room were in a dumbfounded stupour. Quirrell promptly then fainted, breaking the spell, and the room erupted into screams.

The students descended into outright pandemonium as panic rippled from house to house. Luckily, Dumbledore restored order with a singular booming command of "Silence!". Every student stared at their Headmaster in enraptured attention, listening carefully to the careful evacuation instructions that followed. The prefects sprang to action, directing their Houses back to their Dormitories at once.

Dumbledore then turned calmly to his colleagues. "Staff, please pair up and check your respective school areas. If any of us come across the Troll, send a patronus out as a message of where we may find you immediately. Do not engage the Troll by yourselves, wait for others to come to your aid before beginning an attack." The staff, as a unit, nodded in understanding. "Minerva, will you accompany me?"

"Of course, Headmaster." Minerva replied, striding forward.

The rest of the staff began to pair off and discuss the plan of action.

Circe reached for her wand, drawing it out of her coat pocket. "Severus, you and I can check the Potions classrooms, then head up to my first floor room." Dumbledore and Mcgonagall were already leaving and other staff pairs soon moved to follow suit. "How confident are you with the patronus charm? I haven't conjured one for-"

"Where is Quirrell?" Snape asked, interrupting her.

"What?" She looked at Severus, whose worrisome expression unsettled her even more deeply than before. Circe turned back to where Quirrell had fainted, now busy with moving people and blocked from her sight. "Uhh I don't know, I can't see him. Perhaps he was taken to the hospital wing by someone."

"Circe, did you complete your level of protection for the Stone?" Severus rounded on her, grabbing her forcefully by the shoulders.

"What? Yes, weeks ago." She replied, confused by Severus's seemingly unrelated questions.

"Check the Potions classrooms with someone else. I need to go…"

"Go where? Severus?!" She called after him, but he had already slipped away out of one of the small concealed doors, off to God knows where.

* * *

Circe paced the long, dark and dismal corridors of the dungeons, cursing Severus's name for leaving her alone. All the other staff had paired off and dispersed before she'd realised Severus wasn't coming back. So she'd decided to go it alone… and was rather regretting the decision.

Her heart pounded in her ears, the only noise she heard in the oppressive silence around her. The dungeons were eerie in the daylight. By night, with a rogue troll on the loose, they were downright terrifying. She rationed to herself that if the Troll was here, she'd probably hear it before she saw it. But still, she kept a prepared and shaking hand on her wand.

Circe dutifully surveyed each room for a sign of any life and found them all empty. The last room, right at the end of the corridor, was Severus's classroom. Again, swearing under her breath, she rued the day that had put her in this situation as she dragged her lead legs reluctantly to check. Finding nothing once more, she moved to turn and run back to the surface. Until she heard a noise from the store room…

She stood rooted to the spot, desperately trying to convince herself that she'd imagined it… when it came again. A small rattle. Gathering her courage, she willed herself to start the walk to the cupboard and investigate.

_A troll couldn't fit in there… could it?_ She thought unsurely.

Wand raised in preparation, she pushed open the storeroom door with a bang.

There, hanging precariously off one of the ingredient shelves, was a small House Elf. He froze in place, his hand hovering over Severus's desk, clutching a singular piece of paper. He screeched, his huge doll-like eyes popping out of his head. Circe screamed too, but quickly regained her calm, clutching her poor heart.

"Apologies, Madame…" the House Elf squeaked. He jumped down from the shelf, rattling a few bottles and stoppers as he landed. Circe flinched, knowing the harm that would occur if he smashed one of those bottles if he wasn't careful. "Is this the office of Professor Severus Snape?"

"Uh, yes it is." Circe replied, crouching down to the House Elf's level. He still held the paper in his tiny hands, close to his filthy chest. "But I'm afraid you've come here at a bad time."

"Oh sorry, Madame but Mr Malfoy said it was of the utmost importance tha Professor Snape be found straight away. Th-this arrived for him this morning at Spinner's End, you see…" He held out the paper to her in explanation.

"Malfoy?"

"Mr Lucious Malfoy, my master. He keeps an eye on Spinner's End for Professor Snape while he's away at Hogwarts."

"Ah I see." Circe abhorred the practise that some wizarding families still kept to: keeping House Elves. It was slavery. There was no way of dressing it up. At least all of the Hogwarts Elves were free and paid for what they did.

"Please ma'am where will I find him? My master will be ever so horrible to me if I don't do as I was told." The House Elf began to tear up and his bottom lip shook.

"Oh lord knows where he is." Circe said bitterly.

Dobby started to wail.

Circe shushed him, panicking that the noise might draw the attention of the Troll.

"What's your name?" Circe asked softly.

"Dobby, miss."

"Well, Dobby. If you leave it with me, I solemnly promise you that when I next see Professor Snape I will give it to him."

The House Elf sniffed and looked at the paper, then back to Circe.

"And who shall Dobby say he left it with, Miss?" The House Elf asked cautiously.

"Circe Smith. Professor Circe Smith." She assured him. "I work with Professor Snape."

Dobby looked at her long and hard, internally grappling with his decision.

"Alright, miss." He tentatively held out the paper and Circe took it from him.

"Thank you Dobby." She gave him her warmest smile and he seemed to brighten at that.

"Such a lovely lady, miss. Not like Dobby's master. No, they'd never say "Thankyou" to Dobby."

She smiled sadly at the House Elf, not quite sure what to say.

"And it took poor Dobby ages to find Professor Snape's office. Dobby even had to sneak past that nasty great Troll on the second floor."

Circe felt the colour drain from her face. "What?"

"But never mind, Dobby has left Professor Snape's paper now with a friend." He grinned widely at her.

"Did you say the Troll's on the second floor?"

"Oh yes, nasty great lolloping thing. Was tearing a few chunks out of the bathroom and a few children as well it looked like."

Circe gasped.

"Dobby is rather confused, ma'am. Mr Malfoy is always going on about how wonderful Hogwarts is but they seem to be sticking Trolls on their students, which doesn't seem very wonderful at all to Dobby..."

"Good God…" Circe breathed.

"Well Dobby had better be off, Miss. Thank you for your help."

The House Elf clicked his fingers and he was gone, melted away, in a thick puff of smoke.

Circe turned on her heels to leave for the second floor immediately. She reached for the handle of the storeroom door to realise that she was still holding Dobby's charge: Severus's very important piece of paper. Without thinking, she turned it over in her hands and read what it said.

" _Certificate of death for: Eileen Anita Snape (nee. Prince_ )..."

"Oh no…"

* * *

Circe's breath was ragged when Mcgonagall's cat patronus went shooting past her as she ran up the many moving Hogwarts staircases. She heard it's message echoing through the halls as it called upon the other staff members. "The Troll has been located. Come to the second floor girl's bathroom."

_I hope Dobby was exaggerating about the troll tearing chunks out of students,_ Circe thought, her brows knitted together in a worried frown.

She rounded the corner to the second floor girl's bathroom and had to come to a screaming halt. Rubble and water covered the floor and she heard raised voices of alarm coming from inside the bathroom. Circe took a few long draws of air to try and steady her breath and herself before diving headlong into what she was about to see.

Mcgonagall stood amidst the chaos with Dumbledore, Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick. They had beaten her to the rallying cry, it seemed. Before her lay the troll, seemingly out cold on the floor accompanied by a rather sheepish looking Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Circe looked to the troll, and then to Potter and then to Minerva, putting the pieces together.

"Did… Did what I think just happened here really just happen here?" She asked Flitwick. Minerva was too busy giving the First Years the what-for.

"Why… yes I do believe Potter and Weasley just brought down a fully grown mountain troll. Claim they were saving Miss Granger here from a rather grizzly death."

"Bloody hell." Circe couldn't help a smile of slight pride spread across her face.

She felt a presence behind her. Wordlessly and almost silently Severus had moved into the rapidly filling crowd of Professors at the entrance to the girls bathroom. Circe turned, knowing who it was before she locked eyes with him. Snape's face was stoic, giving away nothing. Yet still, he returned her look and it hit her like a wall of ice. He moved forward silently to her side and she waited for him to say something. When nothing came, the anger rose within her and she hissed at him under her breath. "Where the bloody hell did you go?"

He drew in breath to reply to her, but instead hastily fumbled with his cloak, covering his leg. Circe looked at him in confusion, but her bewilderment only deepened when she saw Potter fixing the Professor with the most suspicious look she'd ever seen.

"Severus, what by Merlin's beard is going on?"

Minerva dismissed the children and they were frog-marched back to their dormitories once the necessary congratulations and reprimands had been bestowed upon them. Circe hung back whilst the other members of staff also began their walks back to their rooms, leaving just her and Severus alone in the corridor. She rounded on him in an instant, pointing an accusatory finger in his face. "Now you are going to tell me what the bloody hell all that was about before in the Great Hall before I-"

Severus backed into the wall. He sucked in his breath sharply in pain as he hobbled backwards.

"What? What's wrong?" Circe asked, all anger within her vanishing in a moment. She cast her eyes down to Severus's leg and saw the torn bloody mess on his right calf. "Oh my god, Severus."

"It's nothing…" Snape said dismissively, trying to push past her.

"Like hell is it." She forcefully placed the palm of her hand on his chest and he almost toppled to the side. He winced again and let out a small cry as he tried to regain his balance by putting weight on the injured leg. "Come on, I'll take you to Madame Pomfrey."

"No! I can't...She'll ask too many questions she can't be a party to."

A long moment of silence followed as Snape fixed her with a pointed, knowing look. "This is to do with the Stone isn't it." Circe said slowly.

Snape nodded, the temples of his head beaded with sweat.

"Then I'm taking a look at it." Circe added decisively.

"Professor Smith I really don't-"

"Oh shut up, Severus." She said, hooking his arm around her shoulders, supporting his weight on her. Injured as he was, Snape had no choice but to follow where she led.

For the second time that evening, the door of the storage room swung open for Circe. She heaved Severus in with her and lowered him down onto one of the empty table tops. He swung his injured leg up onto the wood, sucking in his breath at the sharp sting of pain as she busied herself looking for what she wanted. Circe set down her few choice selections next to him and tore the tattered cloth on his leg open up to the knee. Severus thought about voicing his slight outrage, but thought better of it and begrudgingly allowed her to continue.

Circe wrinkled her nose and smelt her hands. "Ugh Jesus, Severus, what is this? It smells like drool."

"Dog drool."

"You were attacked by a dog? Where? Why?!" She flung the myriad of questions at him as she filled up a bowl with hot water and emptied one of the vials she'd selected into it. He said nothing, letting his stoic mask fall into place once more. "Alright fine, don't tell me anything." Circe sighed, giving up on trying to squeeze information out of him. She dipped a cloth into the water and began cleaning the wound.

After a while, something like a comfortable silence fell between them as Circe worked at his injury. He flinched every time she re-dabbed the cloth and applied it to a fresh part of the cut, but otherwise did not complain. Circe moved to grab some bandages and she felt a corner of paper brush against her from her inside pocket. _Ohh_ … she thought solemnly having completely forgot about it in the hubbub. She removed it carefully.

"Severus." Circe said, seriously. "A House Elf from the Malfoy family dropped this off for you whilst you were gone." She handed the paper over to him. "Apparently it came to Spinner's End this morning. I'm sorry."

He took the paper from her and his eyes fell on the morbid words.

"My mother…" he said to no one in particular. Circe thought she heard the slightest crack of emotion in his voice and her heart broke for him.

"You didn't know she'd…"

Severus shook his head. "I'd not seen her for many years. Not since the war…I knew that she was ill, but I still expected my Father to tell me if..." he did not complete his sentence. He closed his eyes and placed his head in his hands. His long black hair shrouded his face from view and Circe watched him shrink in on himself in grief. No tears, no sobs, just resignation and a bottomless, black sorrow. Circe placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. On any other day he may have batted it away or screamed at her to leave him be. But not today.

The day that had taken Lily from him… and now also the day that had taken his mother from him. The two most important women in his life. It was cruelly ironic, really.

"Do you ever wonder…" he asked eventually "why you are the one that lives on when others who are too kind and good for this world seem to be snatched away first?"

Circe said nothing, at a loss for words. She remembered her own mother, whose face was becoming increasingly hard to picture as the years drew on. Each birthday putting another unnegotiable barrier between them, until all she had left of her was a few pictures and a certificate similar to the one Severus held in his hands now.

"Do I really deserve to be alive?" Severus asked again.

"That's a question and a half, Severus." Circe replied, thinking aloud. "One that I don't think I can answer...I don't think anyone can answer."

He looked up at her, through his limp hanging hair. Most people would offer some kind of meaningless platitude at this time. She didn't insult him with this and for that alone he respected her.

"But you _are_ still alive. That's something we can answer for ourselves and that's good enough. 'Deserving' or not. Kind or cruel. You're still alive."

It was crudely put, but something about the way she so simply said it touched a nerve in his heart. He looked up into her eyes, past the glint of her glasses and the earnest honesty hidden there.

"Well, despite your best efforts to make it otherwise…" she gestured towards his leg in jest.

He scoffed as she resumed work on his wound. For a while, he watched her busy with her bandaging, numbed to the world around him. Her bronze curls fell about her face, bouncing as she moved here and there. She stuck her tongue out of the left side of her mouth ever so slightly when she concentrated. He wondered if she knew she did that.

He realised with sudden alarm that this was the first time he had been touched for eleven years. And then all his mind could focus on was the feel of her fingers, brushing against his leg hair.

"I'm guessing you're not on fantastic terms with your father." She asked, shaking him out of his fixation.

"Uhh.. no." He cleared his throat, feeling the warmth rise beneath his skin.

"I could make some enquiries at the hospital on the death certificate if you like? Find out if the funeral has taken place yet. Or where she's buried."

"He didn't take her to St Mungo's?"

"Uhh…" she reached for the certificate at Snape's side, and he felt the brush of her hair against his face as she leaned in close. His whole body stiffened. "No, The Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Birmingham it says here."

"A muggle hospital." He shook his head and sighed. "Why did I expect any better of him?" He thought for a while and conceded that it was probably best if she rang the hospital, just in case they passed her on to Tobias Snape. If he saw or spoke to his father ever again, it would be one hundred years too soon.

"That would be very greatly appreciated." He said. "Thank you."

Circe smiled weakly at him. She thought carefully about what she wanted to say next. Clearly he was vulnerable and she suspected that he would probably regret several things he'd said to her tonight by the next morning. She didn't want to taint what had transposed here by putting her foot in a tetchy issue she knew nothing about again.

"You know… people do strange things when they're grieving..."

"Don't." He snapped at her. "All you need to know is that this is not out of character for him." His face set into a vicious scowl.

She tied off the bandages and her hands dropped to her side. He felt the absence of her touch instantly.

Circe swallowed, pulling up emotions that she'd buried for years. "When my mother died, my Dad didn't cope with it very well initially."

Snape's scowl relaxed as she said this. He looked at her curiously.

"For a few days he refused to see me… I guess because I reminded him of her. And the only thing I wanted right then was my Dad… to grieve with. And he couldn't stand the sight of me. He eventually came around when his sister gave him a bollocking for his behaviour… but it was still painful. It still changed how I saw him."

"And your point is?" Snape asked impatiently. Maybe she wasn't above a poster-quote piece of advice after all. He theorised something like "don't judge people by their worst moments" was coming.

"No point. I guess I…" she trailed off. _I just wanted you to know you're not alone._ She completed the thought in her head.

There had been people who'd Circe had gotten very close to who didn't know about her mother and the unspoken rift between her and her Dad. She wondered to herself why this man, who'd not been the kindest to her by any stretch of the word, was who she'd opened up to. Why did she want Snape to know? It confused her as much as it did him it seemed. Perhaps it was a way of evening the stakes between them: he'd shown vulnerability to her so she wanted to gift him something equally vulnerable back.

"I guess it's just something that two people who... _understand_ each other might say." She said with a small grin. Snape nodded and a wordless bond grew between them in that moment.

"Are you familiar with the Ancient Egyptian beliefs about the dead?" She asked.

"No." He said simply, rising to his feet. He tested his injured leg and experimentally placed some weight on it. "Do tell."

"Well it was believed that a person's _ka_ or soul was inseparably tied to their _cartouche_ , their name. There's a rather nice sentiment in The Book of the Dead that I've always liked. A small bit of magic that even muggles could do…"

Snape raised a brow at her.

"They say that on days of mourning or rememberance all you need to do is say the name of the dead… and they live again."

"Say their name and they live again…" he echoed.

Circe nodded slowly.

"Eileen Prince."

"Phoebe Rogers."


	5. "It's nice to have you here."

Circe walked through knee deep snow in the Hogwarts grounds, the great expansive Scottish landscape stretched out around her. Ziggy circled in the white sky above and she watched him contentedly. She’d given him a special Christmas treat of a few field mice, which he’d munched down merrily in the Owlery before their long walk. She couldn’t wait for her Christmas Lunch when she got back to the castle. 

Her toes had turned numb with cold some time ago and the gently falling snow now heartily coated her hat and coat. She had volunteered to stay at the school for the Christmas holidays as it gave her more time to finish her reading and walk when she pleased. Her stepmother Jane’s kids were still young. Young enough for Santa and Rudolph and all that jazz and she somehow felt that going back home for Christmas would be getting in the way of a family affair. She’d dutifully sent her presents and cards and well wishes, as well as promises to visit in the new year… 

Christmas at Hogwarts was magical. Blissfully quiet. Breathtakingly beautiful. And, with her newfound friend Mcgonagall also staying put for the holidays, wonderfully companionable. Most of the students were gone, save for a handful from a selection of years. Potter and Weasley included amongst them. She’d played a few rounds of wizard chess with Potter, helping to get his skill up and roaring heartily every time he smashed one of her pieces to bits. In the days of holiday, when staff were few and far between, all professors were permitted the passwords to all of the House common rooms. It was in the cozy nights leading up to Christmas Day, wrapped in a thick woolen blanket, in front of the Gryffindor common room fire, where her and Potter had matched wits. Ron often stood at her back, whispering tips and suggestions in to her ear. She conceded that Weasley was probably a better player than she was! Late into the evening, when she’d got herself into an awful stalemate and felt tiredness pulling at her eyes, she would allow Ron to step in for her whilst she bid them goodnight and took herself off to bed. The next morning, the boys delighted in telling her how Ron had turned the game around. 

The great clock tower struck midday as she waded through the snow covered path, back to the Hogwarts’s courtyard. She entered the castle and stomped her boots a few times to dislodge the snow that clung to her wellies. Great white puffs fell off her as she shook her head and arms. 

“Goodness gracious, look at the sight of you!” Circe turned to Mcgonagall, just as she had on her first day arriving at Hogwarts. “You look like an abominable snowman.” 

“I feel like one…” she replied. “My feet are bloody freezing!” 

“Then you must come and warm yourself.”Mcgonagall handed her a glass of delicious-smelling mulled wine which she took gratefully. “The Elves have lit the fire in the Great Hall and it’s all ready for our lunch.” Minerva hooked her arm through hers and ushered her off to the Great Hall with a smile that warmed Circe right up. 

Their meal was delicious, and Circe helped herself to another couple of pigs-in-blankets whilst Minerva and Dumbledore pulled a cracker. Her Dad was a useless cook, and Circe had not known before the Christmas lunch she’d just eaten that turkey wasn’t meant to be dry and bland. His skill however, was in desserts. As she sat back in her chair, utterly stuffed, she found herself missing her Dad’s signature Sherry trifle. Perhaps next year she would go home after all... As the meal wound down, Dumbledore dozed contentedly in his chair and Circe and Minerva chatted amiably, pouring one another drink after drink of warming brandy.

“For you.” Minerva said to Circe, pushing a small present across the table. 

“Miverva, I thought we said no presents!” Circe chided her.

“I know, but it’s just a small thank you for assisting with the Broomstix discount and, well, being an all around wonderful companion.” 

Circe’s eyes pricked with tears and she smiled at Mcgonagall. The two had become quite close in the months since September: Talking long into the night in their shared conservatory, off loading to each other about difficult classes or piling up workloads, and respecting each other’s privacy and space when needed. Circe had even figured out a way around the shared bathroom problem and had developed a hex on both hers and Mcgonagall’s door handle that barred someone from entering if it was duly occupied. 

Circe looked at her present and tugged at the red ribbon that held it together. She popped off the lid of the small box and there nestled on a velvet pillow was the red brooch Minerva had lent her on her first night. It was a truly beautiful piece of jewellery: a garnet the size of a tangerine inlaid in a marvellously intricate Celtic interwoven design. 

“Oh Minerva…”

“Well, I couldn’t help but think how well it suited you. It complements the tones of your hair quite nicely. And I think it helped turn quite a few heads that night.” She gave her a knowing wink. Circe blushed a deep red. “I thought Severus’s jaw was about to drop off.” 

“You knew…?” Circe asked, totally aghast. 

“I figured there could only be one person in Hogwarts that could upset someone that much within minutes of their arrival.” She said casting a raised eyebrow at Circe. “But still, we got our own back, didn’t we.” She nudged Circe in the ribs playfully. Circe snorted and clinked her glass to Minerva’s. She polished off her drink and Mcgonagall dutifully topped them both up. 

“And we dealt out quite the humiliating defeat for Slytherin on the Quidditch pitch too!” Minerva cried out in delight, giving herself an extra splash of brandy in self-congratulations. 

“That was weeks ago, Minerva!” Circe laughed. “You are the most awful winner.” 

“And why should I not be? It’s the first win Gryffindor have had against Slytherin in thirty years! I tell you, if Potter hadn’t pulled it out of the bag in the last minutes, I would have set Severus’s cloak on fire myself!” 

“Yeah, what the bloody hell did happen there?” 

“Oh goodness knows.” Minerva waved her hand dismissively. “Strange things are always happening at Hogwarts. More so of recent, it seems...” 

The remains of their lunch magically melted away and was replaced by a selection of festive desserts. 

“Oh goodness me, I don’t think I could eat another bite.” Circe conceded. 

“It’s a pity…” Minerva began. “I told the House Elves to cook for all four staff on site. It’s such a waste of food.” 

“Four?” Circe asked, confused. “Who else is here? I haven’t seen anyone all week.” 

“Severus.” 

“Severus is here?” She asked in surprise, sounding a little too eager for her own liking. 

“Why yes. Did he not tell you in your shared lessons he was staying on for Christmas too?” 

“No…” 

“Hmm how odd. He always stays for the holidays. Every year since he started teaching here.” Minerva explained. “Not that it matters. We hardly ever see him anyway. But he does normally materialise for his Christmas lunch…” 

Circe’s head was delightfully foggy by the time the students began unwrapping their gifts from beneath the huge Great Hall Christmas tree. Potter and Weasley were throwing exploding bon bons at one another in the throws of a post-sugary high. One of the exploding sweets lodged in the boughs of the tree and sent several ornaments flying off in a loud bang. 

“Now boys…” Mcgonagall chided them. “That’s enough of that.” 

“Sorry Professor.” Potter said, taking out his wand and picking up each ornament with his newly learnt levitation spell. He placed them back in the tree one by one, until he got to a miniature acoustic guitar ornament. 

“Engorgio!” Weasley shouted at the ornament. It expanded outwards with a sudden pop as all of the strings snapped. Potter laughed as he held the now average sized guitar in his hands. 

Circe rose to her feet and walked over to the boys. She gestured to Potter to hand the guitar over and he did so without question. 

“Chordisia repario.” She said, pointing her wand at the snapped strings. In a heartbeat they had 

knitted themselves back together. Circe perched the instrument over a bent knee and began tuning. 

Time swam by as she tested each note, lost in her tipsyness and the old familiar feel of the instrument beneath her. She strummed a testing G chord and was pleased with the harmonious result. When she looked up, the Great Hall was empty.  _ Minerva probably took the boys away before they started bouncing off the walls _ , she thought to herself. She picked a little tune as her mind wandered, the shapes of the chords coming back to her in an instant. Soon the tune was joined by a hum. Her eyes wandered over the delectable desserts now abandoned on the table. Chocolate log cake, Black Forest gateaux, angel delight, rum soaked Christmas pudding… 

She changed the tune she was strumming.

_ “These are a few of my favorite things…”  _ she hummed. 

As her mind meandered, so did her playing. Hopping from one half remembered song to another. Her thoughts eventually wandered back to an image of Severus, alone in his cold dark dungeon, without any food. Empathy tugged at her heart strings. How lonely he must feel… In an instant she was on her feet, swinging the guitar on its strap behind her so it settled against her back. She bounded over to the table and pulled out a clean plate, filling it with a slice of this and a portion of that. Later she would come to blame it on the brandy, but in that moment she had decided to bring  _ her  _ Byronic colleague the feast if he would not come to the feast himself. She knocked back another drink, just for good measure and went off striding with her plate of goodies down to the dungeons. 

The brandy sat warmly in her stomach, giving her liquid courage as she paced hopelessly up and down the dungeon’s corridors. She had a vague idea where Severus’s quarters were but could not pinpoint it exactly.  _ Very well _ she thought, placing the cakes on the floor momentarily.  _ I can be a carolling service as well as ‘meals-on-wheels’.  _ She spun the guitar back around until it sat in her hands once again. She decided on a Christmas number that was her Dad’s favorite and started plucking out the catchy baseline. 

The music echoed off the cavernous stone walls, breathing life into an otherwise desolate and dingy place. Almost immediately, a door almost right in front of Circe swung open and there, peering into the gloom to investigate the source of the noise, was Severus. He saw Circe swaying a little from side to side, partly from the melody, partly from her tipples. His eyes narrowed to a minuscule squint and his mouth once again hung open in utter surprise before her. 

“Welcome to my Christmas soooooong… 

I’d like to thank you for the year.” 

“P-Professor Smith?” 

“So I’m sending you this Christmas caaaard.

To say it’s nice to have you here…” 

“Are you drunk?” 

She stopped the tune dead and stared him squarely in the face. “I’m not drunk, Severus, I’m  _ merry. _ ”

“Right…” 

She began again, totally abandoning herself to the complete cringeyness of it all. 

“I’d like to sing about all the things 

Huh shuhhh blah baba dee…” she improvised on the lyrics that escaped her. Severus covered his mouth with his hand, trying to feign annoyance but in actuality covering the crack of a smile. 

“Da shoo be doo babba dabba diyeee 

Ohhhhh step into Christmas with meeee!

TWO 

THREE 

FOUR…

Step into Christmas 

Let’s join togetherrrr

Weee can watch the snow fall forever and everrr

Behhh debbbooo Christmas 

Come along babeyyyy 

Step into Christmas 

The admission’s freeeee heee heeee”

Snape clasped a hand around the neck of the guitar, silencing her instantly. She snorted, unable to stop giggling and Snape fought with everything inside him not to let her infectious laugh take over him too. 

“Is there a purpose to this interruption, Professor?” He asked, flicking his own wand in the air. The guitar shrank back to its original minuscule shape and it now sat neatly in Circe’s left hand. She reached down to the floor, picking up her plate of desserts. 

“For you.” She said, smiling at him. “Seen as you missed Christmas lunch.” 

He looked down into her outstretched arms at the generous selection she had brought him and a lump raised in his throat. He took it from her without a word, nodding curtly. 

Circe laughed again nervously as she waited for a reply from Snape. When nothing came, she put her hands in her pockets and moved to leave.

“You didn’t have to..” Snape said quickly, stopping her from turning away. “I’m perfectly capable of feeding myself.” 

Circe rolled her eyes and sighed . “Merry Christmas to you too, Severus.” She smiled sweetly at him one last time and for a lightning fast moment, he wished she’d kiss him on the cheek like in the old black and white films his mother used to watch on a Sunday. She turned on her heels and left, humming the chorus to herself again. 

When she’d gone, he felt heavy and bereft. He closed his door once more, holding his plate of food. Turning his back, he leaned against the wood and silently slid down to the ground. There was a knawing, wriggling sensation in his stomach as he stuffed the gateaux into his mouth first, followed by the chocolate log and the other sweets she’d bought. In his head, he could still hear her singing. It was the first thing he’d eaten all day and he was, he realised, starving. In truth, the Christmas lunch had totally passed him by, absorbed as he was in his research. Some rather important enquiries about Quirrell had just gotten back to him the night beforehand and he hadn’t been to bed yet… 

Quirrell was all he’d thought about for the past twenty or so hours, ever since his document requests from the Ministry had come back… He had been right of course; Quirrell was not who he claimed to be. Or at least he was playing at some kind of act. He’d been going by a completely different name until about ten years ago, when suddenly poor stuttering Professor Quirrell had come on to the wizarding scene. Before then, Severus assumed he’d been Maxentius Varallo, suspected Death Eater or at least fanatical Voldemort admirer. He didn’t recognise the name from his Double Agent days, but then again the reach of The Dark Lord was much larger and the rot went deeper than most wizards would suspect. On his desk he had his birth records, Auror investigation reports, photographs and records of his short stay in a correctional unit at the Ministry until his eventual disappearance off the face of the earth around the time of the Dark Lord’s demise. And that’s when ‘Quirinus Quirrell’ popped up. No history, no past, nothing remotely traceable until his little sabbatical to the Black Forest last year…

Then there was that comment about employers that Quirrell had said on the first day of term that he couldn’t quite pick apart. He grappled with the idea of telling Dumbledore of his suspicions. Or was all this just the paranoia of a man who saw old enemies wherever he went? Severus had been caught in a whirling cycle of suspicion, fear and dread at what he may or may not be about to overturn… when Circe had knocked on his door. 

Now, all thoughts of Quirrell seemed like a very distant memory. He munched numbly on his Christmas pudding, barely registering the taste of anything. The lump in his throat was still there. So was that knaw in his stomach. 

_ Is it possible, Severus, that just a small, tiny, minuscule amount… you might fancy her a little bit?  _ That thought terrified him just as much as anything he’d upturned about Quirrell. He stopped chewing, the food turning to ash in his mouth. He’d never once in his life thought about another woman like that, apart from of course... _ Lily.  _

His hands began to shake. Was it a betrayal for him to be feeling like this? To even entertain these thoughts? Lily had, after all, been dead for over ten years now. But the sharp stab of pain in his chest reminded him of the candle he still carried for her. Yet the weight of that candle’s burden had, he admitted, felt much lighter since Circe had been here…  _ When a bear wakes from hibernation,  _ he thought,  _ I wonder if it aches and strains when it first begins to move again? _ Was he finally awakening from decades of reclusivity and loneliness? Flexing his muscles after years of disuse? If this is what the land of the living felt like, it bloody hurt. He wished he could go back into metaphorical sleep and shield himself from pain with emotional distance again, but somehow he doubted that that was possible now. He’d eaten the alluring fruits of the underworld. He just hadn’t expected it to have come in the form of a chocolate log cake…

_ Quite the existential crisis to be having over a small crush, you creepy old man…  _ he sighed to himself and pulled himself off the floor. He resolved to push past it. Forget about it or just…

Deal with it. British stiff upper lip. The familiar yet base survival instinct of his simple will to just “soldier on” eventually replaced the wriggle in his stomach. It was his normal. And he calmed slightly. 

He placed the now empty plate on his bedside table and collapsed with abandon on top of the duvet. Staring up at the canopy of his bed, his mind was a mess of turbaned-heads, long-gone red hair, old black and white films and Step into Christmas. His sugary gorge was not sitting well in his upset and previously-empty stomach and nausea was creeping up on him. If he went to sleep now, he knew his dreams would torment him with memories he’d rather forget. He dozed for a short while, waiting for the sickly feeling to pass and found momentary respite in his half-sleep. 

When he arose, it was the early evening. His room felt stuffy and oppressive and he grimaced as his bleary eyes fell upon the mountain of documents at his desk. He needed to clear his head. Get out of here for a short while. He threw on an outside cloak and a black scarf, longing for the taste of the outside air. And it was then, in a foul mood, sleep-deprived and confused, that he ran into Quirrell on the first floor. 

“S-severus, how wonderful to sssee you here.” 

Espionage had done nothing for him of recent, so he tried intimidation. He scowled, bearing his teeth like an animal and rounded on Quirrell, pinning him to the wall. The young man screeched, his eyes wide with fright. “Ssseverus!” he stuttered.

“What the bloody hell are you doing here? You weren’t meant to be on site until the New Year…” “I - I came back ttttto prepare for the new term…”

“What, on Christmas Day? You liar.” he hissed, pressing his elbow deeper into Quirrell’s neck. “You do not want me as your enemy, Quirrell.” 

“I-I don’t know what you-” 

“You know perfectly well what I mean.” Severus spat, calling his bluff. When no reply came from Quirrell, Severus knew his intimidation hadn’t broken him. In his half-crazed head, he thought he sensed the presence of someone else nearby. He looked around briefly at the empty space around them and rubbed his eyes.  _ Your paranoia again, old man.  _

"Very well. We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decide where your loyalties lie."

Quirrell dropped from his iron grasp and scurried off like a mouse that had just been released from the talons of an owl. 

Severus let out a long sigh of frustration as he watched Quirrell slip away into the darkness. He tried to regain his composure and stood quit still in the now empty corridor for a few moments. The thumping of his heart subsided and he pressed on to the blissful call of outside. His thoughts were still lost in ‘if’s and ‘how’s when he passed Circe and Mcgonanall’s rooms. Mcgonagall’s door remained astutely closed… Circe’s swung open on its hinges. The blood began thrumming around his veins as alarm set in once more. He hesitantly stepped forward and pushed it open, the sound of the creaky hinges like a great croaking yawn.

The room was a ramshackled mess. Everything up in arms, on the floor and in complete tatters. Without hesitation, Severus was inside, desperately searching for his colleague. Smashed glass crunched under his feet as his panicked breathing quickened. 

“Circe… Circe!” he called out with a deepening alarm. When no answer came, he pushed on to the conservatory. There were no signs of destruction as there were in the bedroom, but still he did not see her. A quick check into the empty bathroom assured him that he was not about to discover an attack or, God forbid, a murder. Still, his adrenaline was up and he tore out of the room in pursuit of the culprit. 

He tore through the castle in righteous fury. His blood was boiling. The cool night air that he had previously been longing for went unnoticed to him as he searched the grounds. In the still of the night he heard voices floating on the air in song. A mixture of both male and female, singing a rather rowdy version of Silent Night. Severus ran to the voices, his hand on his concealed wand, and as he rounded the corner he almost collided with Minerva, Hagrid and Circe. Their faces were red from the cold and, as Severus could smell, a few extra Christmas drinks from down at the Three Broomsticks. A wave of relief washed over him at seeing Circe’s face, unharmed and…  _ merry _ . Circe’s eyes brightened as she recognised who had intercepted their path. 

“Severus!” she said with a bright smile. “The Grinch has come down from Mount Crumpit!” 

“Whatever are you talking about?” Minerva asked with prudently pursed lips. Yet her precarious clinging hold onto Circe’s arm said otherwise. 

“Nevermind…” Circe said with a snort. Her face fell when she saw the look of solemnity and alarm on Severus’s face. “What’s wrong?” 

“You better come with me…”

She stood in the remains of her room, completely aghast and considerably more sober. Everything she owned was destroyed. Every last piece of clothing torn into rags, each item smashed or damaged, every private cupboard or draw rifled through mercilessly. 

“Who would do this?” She asked, trying to hold back tears. Minerva was at her side, an arm around her shoulders. 

“I expect someone who was looking for clues or information on your contribution to the Stone’s protection.” Severus replied solemnly. 

“Did you have any records or notes?” Minerva asked. 

“No, of course not. There was nothing for them to find…” 

“Which is why I expect their search turned… violent.” Severus said slowly. “They became frustrated with the lack of finds.” 

“Goodness… how lucky it was that you weren’t here.” 

Circe sniffed and tears crept down her face. 

“Oh there there, my girl.” Minerva comforted her. “The only thing in this room that cannot be replaced is you.” 

“I have nothing now… except what I’m standing in.” She cried. 

“We shall figure something out. I promise.” Minerva cooed, rubbing her shoulder. 

Minerva settled Circe down into the chair of the conservatory and rushed off to make her a sugary cup of tea. Severus was left alone with her as she continued to sniffle quietly to herself. Severus stood awkwardly at her back, not quite sure what to say or how to comfort her. Her hand suddenly flew to her coat lapel.

“Minerva’s brooch!” She cried out. “Oh god, I left it on my vanity table. I bet the bastard smashed it to pieces.” 

Severus turned on his heels and walked back into her room. He hopped over the various bits of debris until he got to the smashed remains of the vanity. He crouched down to the floor, sifting through broken glass and her smashed makeup collection. He overturned one particularly large shard and there it was, partially squashed but still mostly intact. He ran back to the conservatory and tapped her gently on the shoulder. 

“Here…” 

She turned to him and her face brightened in an instant. “Oh Severus!”

“I’m afraid he may have stood on it but it’s mostly fine.” 

She laughed joyously, “Oh I don’t care. It’s still here.” She said through joyous tears. She sprang out of her seat and propped herself up against the back of the armchair until she was almost at the same level height as Severus. “Thank you.” And in that moment Severus was utterly stupefied when she leaned forward and kissed him graciously on the cheek. 

Severus blushed as deep red as a holly berry. He recoiled from her as if she were a snake and went charging from the room. Poor Minerva almost had the tea knocked from her hands as he barrelled past her in blind panic. 

“Goodness, Severus!” She chided, hearing the sound of Circe laughing in the conservatory. “Circe, is something the matter?”. Mcgonagall stepped into the glass house and saw Circe clutching the brooch in her hands as if it were the delicate egg of a baby bird. 

“Why did he say “ _ he  _ stood on it”...?” 


	6. "While I'm worth my room on this Earth..."

“Headmaster, this is too much…” Circe breathed as she held the envelope in her hand. Inside was a cheque for two hundred and fifty pounds. 

“Nonsense, Professor. Consider it a compassionate Christmas bonus. I’m afraid I was only able to secure one night away from Hogwarts for you, however...” 

“A night away?” 

“Yes. On New Year’s Eve too. I myself have never spent the coming of the New Year in Edinburgh… ahh how I would love to see the fireworks from the Royal Mile…” 

“Edinburgh…” Circe said, slightly flabbergasted. 

“Why of course. I did not expect you to replace your wardrobe entirely from the commerce available in Hogsmeade!” 

Circe looked down modestly at what she was wearing. Since Christmas Day, when all of her possessions had been trashed by an intruder, she’d had to borrow some items of clothing from Minerva. Mcgonagall did her best to assure her that she suited green, but a floor-length green skirt with a matching green jacket and pointed hat? It was like she was Minerva’s clone…

Perhaps it was time for a shop. 

“Tomorrow night then?” She asked. 

“Indeed.” Dumbledore said with a nod of his head, handing her yet another envelope. 

“At the bloody Balmoral too?” Circe laughed in disbelief. “Goodness, Dumbledore. You really are spoiling me!” 

Dumbledore chuckled heartily. Circe scanned the booking confirmation and her eyes narrowed. “Oh, but it seems you’ve made an error and booked two rooms…” 

“Not error at all, Professor Smith. As it seems you are now being targeted by people who wish to do you harm, I thought it may be prudent to provide for your protection too.” 

“Protection?”

“Yes. Minerva has been keeping an eye on you over the past few days, but she really was desperate to see her nieces and nephews in Caithness before term resumed again.” 

“And at least one of us has to stay in Hogwarts to look after the students still here…” 

“Which I have volunteered for. So that only leaves…”

“Don’t say….”

* * *

Severus stood with a face of thunder in the outer courtyard holding a small overnight bag. 

“Listen…” Circe began, “if you’d rather not come, I can go by myself.” 

“And get pulled up in front of Dumbledore for disobeying direct orders?” He added sourly. 

“He ordered you?” She asked, surprised. Severus responded by rolling his eyes. 

“Shall we just get going?” He asked, impatiently. She straightened the straps of her backpack, full of her overnight necessities and walked at his side. 

They both had to exit the Hogwarts grounds before they could apparate and they walked on in strained silence. Circe hadn’t seen Severus since Christmas Day as he’d been hiding in his dungeon rooms. Little did she know he was, in part, hiding from her. She took a long look at him and realised he wasn’t dressed in his normal imposingly black attire. Dumbledore must have advised him to dress slightly more like a muggle as he’d switched out his buttoned doublet and cloak for a pair of black trousers, a charcoal grey jumper and a sleek leather jacket. Still very Snape-esque, but astonishingly different to what she’d become used to seeing on him. Rather contrastingly, it was Circe who looked like the odd one, still stuck in Minerva’s clothes.

They walked along until they passed Hagrid’s Hut and felt comfortable enough that they were well outside of the apparition barrier. 

“You will have to cast the spell.” Severus stated. “I have no idea where I’m going.” 

She thought for a while and settled on a secluded spot in the Prince’s Street gardens that should be out of eyesight for muggles. She nodded to him, confirming her choice. She pulled her wand out as Severus took his place beside her. She expectantly held her arm out to him to take and he hooked his hand around her with another roll of his eyes. They both went spinning off into the ether… 

… and with a dizzying pop they both landed firm on their feet in Prince’s Street. Circe nearly turned as green as her outfit and placed her head between her legs. 

“Professor?” Severus asked.

“I always get sick from apparating.” She said. “Gimmie a second…” 

Severus raised his inky brow and looked around at his new surroundings. He heard the sounds of the city cars and the distant trains pulling into Waverley Station. Looming above him was the soot-stained gothic styled Burns monument and up towards the Old Town, he could just about see the Castle perched on top of the hill through the trees. It was not an unattractive city, he admitted. 

“Right…” Circe said, sucking in a long breath and standing up straight. “Ready.” 

Severus had expected Circe to make a beeline for the major retail shops on Prince’s Street. Instead she walked past them all and up the hill into the Old Town. In this part of Edinburgh, Severus confirmed to himself just what a beautiful city the capital was. That same soot-stained sandstone and old gothic flair characterised the buildings around him. Circe dragged Severus from shop to shop, down cobbled streets and gut-suckingly tight back alleys to the small little boutiques she’d come to know in her years living in the city. Circe’s mood noticeably brightened as she made each purchase, going through the money her Dad had given her for her birthday before reluctantly cashing Dumbledore’s check too. At around midday, Circe emerged from a little store on Victoria Street in a new pair of blue jeans, a partially tucked-in white band t-shirt and her trusty tartan coat. Severus looked up from the bookstore window he had been inspecting over the road. 

“It’s a pity that ghastly coat wasn’t one of the casualties of the attack.” He commented sardonically. Circe laughed and swatted him on his arm. 

“Are you hungry?” She asked. 

The heavens opened just as they entered a cafe-come-record-store in the Grassmarket region of the city. It was a particular old haunt of Circe’s and she abandoned Severus as she walked in the door to peruse the shelves upon shelves of CD’s and records. She thumbed through the collection, hopping from one band to another and picking up a few new releases that caught her eye. Now she truly felt like herself again. 

“I thought we were here to buy clothes…” Severus commented dryly, standing in the aisle opposite her. She looked up at him, over the counter tops and gave him her sweetest indifferent smile. 

“Why don’t you go and order the coffees, Severus?” she said, ignoring his bad mood. “Oh and get us a little snack.” 

Severus looked over to the cafe area of the shop, where a few modest tables were placed in front of a food display cabinet and a coffee machine. A small Scottish girl with a red apron tied around her waist leaned against the till with her headphones in. 

“What do I even ask for?” he said, his unfamiliarity with muggle cafe’s apparent. 

“Just say you’d like two cappuccinos and... uhh… two toasted teacakes.” She turned back to her surmounting collection of possible purchases, leaving Severus slightly daunted. He mustered himself and turned towards the cafe, approaching the girl cautiously. She took out her headphones and asked him what he’d like. 

“Two cappuccinos and two toasted teacakes.” he repeated dutifully. 

“D’ye want butter with your teacakes?” she asked. 

“Uhh…” Severus faltered. 

“Yes he does!” Circe shouted at the girl from a few aisles away, her head still buried in CD’s. 

“Right, I’ll bring that right over for you.” the girl replied. Severus took his seat at an empty table. 

Circe sat down opposite him a few moments later and started regaling him with her purchases. 

“Use Your Illusion Volume Two… very promising album from G n R if the first one was to your tastes. A new Queen album, Innuendo, that completely passed me by…” Severus nodded his head politely, his arms folded in front of him. She may as well have been speaking to him in Greek. The cafe attendant placed their coffees down in front of them, followed by two warm, delicious-smelling teacakes generously lavished with melting butter. Circe took a bite out of her teacake and moaned in delight. Severus took a cautious bite from his and chewed for a moment. It was delicious. 

“Good choice.” he congratulated her. 

Circe waved the last of her music purchases in front of him. “Couldn’t come back to Edinburgh without nabbing a little bit of The Proclaimers.” she said. 

“Sunshine on Leith.” Severus read aloud. He cast an eye outside into the streets of Edinburgh and the downpour that was still underway. “Instant points deducted for naming your album something ridiculous and implausible…” 

Circe laughed and took a sip of her coffee. “While the Chief, Puts sunshine on Leith, I’ll thank him, For his work, And your work, And my work…” she recited. For a while they both just watched the raindrops slide down the glass of the cafe’s windows in a rare moment of comfortableness between them. 

“What music do you like, Severus?” she asked, taking another sip of coffee and a bite of teacake. 

“As a general rule, I don't.” he responded flatly. 

“You don’t like any music…?”

“No. It’s all just noise really, isn't it.”

“Ahh, then you haven’t found the right music.” she winked at him and he felt the heat rising in his neck again. “What is it Hendrix said...Music is magic. And magic is life.” 

“You should get that on your next t-shirt.” he teased, sipping his cappuccino.

She tutted, letting him score that point in the verbal sparring match between them. “We must do something to remedy that awful attitude. I know quite a few live venues that will be wonderful tonight…” 

“Oh you’re not actually considering going out this evening are you?” he scowled. “At the best of times New Year’s Eve is dire, let alone with someone out there who is after information from you.” 

“Severus , like it or not I am going to be singing Auld Lang Syne at the top of my lungs come midnight, on the wrong side of a few glasses of whiskey. I am not going to be intimidated by them. You can be there if you wish, but-”

“Alright, alright.” he interrupted her. 

_ Plus, we have things that we need to discuss… _ Circe thought to herself. 

After finishing their drinks, Circe and Severus walked leisurely back down the hill towards the Balmoral Hotel. The Hotel attendant graciously took Circe’s many shopping bags from her and ushered them both to follow him. Severus thought the attendant cast him a judgemental look as Circe handed over her bags to him.  _ Stare all you want,  _ he internally shot back,  _ I’m not her donkey.  _ Their rooms were on the third floor, opposite one another. They were both handed their room keys and left alone to settle in at their leisure. 

“Seven o’clock?” Circe asked, before Severus disappeared behind his door. He nodded in response and the door closed resolutely behind him. Circe sighed and closed her own door behind her. The room was wonderful. Exquisitely decorated and overlooking the end of Prince’s Street. She tested the mattress and flopped down on the duvet with vigor, burying herself in the cloud-soft pillows. A day of shopping had made her feet and back ache, but truth be told, she felt truly and utterly spoilt.  _ Edinburgh Castle never did anything like this for you,  _ she thought to herself and smiled widely. 

After a long shower in the en suite, Circe sat by the room’s window curled up in her dressing gown and a towel wrapped around her head. She felt decidedly more refreshed and ready to head back out again soon. The TV was on low in the background and she half listened to the news at six, more interested in watching the people below walking by and busying themselves along the shopping street. It was growing bitterly cold outside as darkness set in. She rose from her seat and began dressing in an appropriately ‘going out’ outfit. She chose a simple black dress that she had purchased earlier. It hung just past her knee and was cut in a modest v neck at her front. A pair of sheer tights and black heels completed her look. Circe set about drying her hair and doing something with her unruly curls. They were always tighter and more coil-like when they were newly dried and she delved into her overnight bag to pull out her various beauty lotions and potions to try and calm them down. 

* * *

Severus stood expectantly in the hotel corridor, tapping his feet.  _ Is she playing a game with me?  _ He thought. _ A ‘who will break and knock on who’s door first’ type of thing?  _ It was ten minutes past seven and Circe had still not emerged. He was starving, the teacake he’d eaten earlier doing little to stave off his hunger. He was about to rap on her door irritably when it swung open, and there she stood. Her hair was styled beautifully, her curls hanging in bold, shining tendrils. A bold splash of red coloured her lips and she gave him a knowing smile. 

“Ready? “ she asked , holding her coat in her hands. 

“Where to?” he replied, unable to stop himself from looking her up and down. 

They settled on another of Circe’s old haunts on Rose Street. This time in the New Tonwn, it was a slightly more modern pub with a huge subterranean floor of tables. They took their seat in a quiet little booth as Circe took great pride in telling Severus all about the rabbit-warren of cellars and structures that Edinburgh was built upon. 

“You see, Edinburgh is built on a swamp. So until they figured out how to stop everything sinking, the architects used to just build straight on top of the submerged streets.” 

“So there’s a whole series of ancient roads and rooms just beneath the surface.” 

“Oh yes, its a practical underground labyrinth.”

They ordered drinks and food, both of them going for a traditional fish supper as of Circe’s recommendation. Both of them ate hungrily when it finally arrived. Severus was not a fan of the mushy peas and pushed his portion towards her. She took them gratefully and lathered them on top of her chips. Circe looked at Severus munching away happily on his cod, herself holding a chip in her right hand as she thought. Severus looked up, feeling her eyes on him and caught her in her musings. 

“Is there something you want to say, Professor?” he asked flatly. 

“You know something that you’re not telling me.” she stated rather confrontationally. “About who ransacked my room last week.” 

Severus stopped chewing, slightly taken aback by her brusqueness. He returned fire with his eyes and spent what felt like an age internally grappling with what he should or shouldn’t say to her.  _ Do you trust her? _ An inner voice whispered to him. She was certainly kind, warmhearted, erudite.. but trustworthy? He recalled back to Hallowe’en and her offer to find out where his mother was buried, which she had done. Unfortunately, he’d been too late to see her before she was interred but Circe had passed on what information the hospital was willing to tell her. Even when he had returned from Yardley Cemetery, having seen his mother’s simple and fresh grave for himself, there had been no signs that she’d told anybody else at Hogwarts of his loss… Or anything else he’d said to her that night. Not even Minerva, it seemed. 

“I think…” he began, a final hesitation before throwing caution to the wind. “...I know who it was.” 

Circe was shocked. She’d expected to get into a fight with Severus, or for him to clam up and refuse to answer her questions like he had done before. 

“You do?” she asked, leaning in close. 

Severus nodded. “You know who came back to Hogwarts that night, and then disappeared again soon after?” 

“Who?” 

“Quirrell.” Severus said simply. He felt an internal weight lighten as he confided in her. 

Circe sat back, her eyes wide. “Wait… I’m sorry. Are we talking about the same thing? You think Quirrell was the one who ransacked my room?”

“I do.” 

“Quirinus I’d-wet-myself-if-someone-sneezed-too-loudly Quirrell?” 

“I do believe our mutual colleague is quite the accomplished actor.” He went on, explaining to Circe the depth of what he had uncovered on Christmas Day. The false name, the lack of a paper trail, his suspicions. She listened in enraptured shock. 

“Severus… this is serious stuff.” she finally said when he had finished. “Do you know this for certain?” 

He shook his head. “But I’m keeping a beady eye on him until I do.” 

“What made you initially think he may be a Dark Lord sympathiser?” 

Severus hesitated before he answered. So she didn’t know anything about his past… Perhaps that's why she’d been halfway decent to him: because she had no clue about the allegations made towards him and his dealings during the wizarding war.  _ Ignorance is bliss,  _ he thought bitterly as his heart sank.

“Just a hunch.” He lied.

“So do we tell Dumbledore?” She asked.

“Not yet. But we both watch Quirrell like a hawk. Two pairs of eyes on him instead of one. And as soon as he lets slip or drops his guard-“

“We haul him in front of the Minister.”

After their meal, they climbed back up to the surface of Rose Street. 

“Now the whole deal with Rose Street, Severus, is that it’s almost entirely pubs and bars.” she began, gesturing to the various establishments around them. “The challenge is to start at one end and try to see how far down the street you can get having a pint or a half pint in each pub. Then you write your name on the street in chalk to show how far along you got.” 

“What?! There must be at least forty different-”

“Oh look, Sterling Rugby Club made it to here.” She said, pointing to the pavement. 

“There is no way-“

“Severus, I’m joking.” She said, cracking into a giggle. His face dropped into a mask of irritation. “I’ve only just dried out from Christmas Day. Come on, I said I’d take you to a live venue didn’t I.” 

She settled on The Black Rose: a proper Scottish music bar where the beer flowed and the songs were played loud. They settled into a routine of rounds, waiting for midnight to arrive. Towards half eleven, Circe was making good of her promise to be a few whiskeys deep by the New Year. Severus too was determinately keeping up with her and once again turned to the bar as Circe was whisked away by another local to dance. He watched her spin and laugh with her dance partner, again catching himself looking her up and down. The wriggling feeling in his gut came back once again and he downed his whiskey in a vain attempt to smother it. He was not jealous per se, but he did feel noticeably more morose watching her being spun and cavorted about the dance floor. She drew attention to her whereas people kept a natural distance from him. The bar erupted into shouts of joy as the band in residence began their cover of ‘500 Miles’. She turned wide eyed and grinning to Severus and mouthed “Proclaimers!” as she pointed enthusiastically at the stage. He nodded, acknowledging that he understood her, and leaned back on the bar as she was pulled into another dance. 

It was five minutes to midnight when she grabbed his hand and dragged him from the pub. 

“Where are we going now?” He asked, his head a little foggy. 

“The Burns monument! Hurry up or we’ll miss it!”. She began trotting, her heels clacking on the cobbles and Severus was forced to jog, still in her iron grip. Other partyers were already gathered there when they arrived, just in time to hear the beginning of the countdown. 

“Look up to the Castle.” She whispered into his ear over the shouts. Severus felt every hair in his body stand to attention as he felt the warmth of her breath on his face. He followed her line of sight and as it turned midnight a brilliant burst of fireworks erupted from out of Edinburgh Castle. Circe’s eyes lit up as the black sky filled with colour. Severus too watched the bright display in fascination and found that he did not flinch when she slipped her arm through his. He looked back to her, her face now illuminated in flashes of green and red. 

_ How pretty she is when she smiles like that.  _ The thought washed over him, as warm as the whiskey he’d drunk. 

Over the haze of shouts and clapping, Severus allowed himself a small smile as he watched Circe link arms with complete strangers and start a chorus of Auld Lang Syne. 

“Should auld acquaintance be forgot

And never brought to mind?

Should auld acquaintance be forgot

And days of auld lang syne?

For auld lang syne, my dear

For auld lang syne

We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet

For days of auld lang syne”


	7. "I'm goin' one way, your way."

Circe walked with her arms full of books through Hogsmeade. On reflection, taking her lesson planning and prep to the pub with her may not have been a good idea...Her arms ached with the weight of the tomes she’d carried all the way from the castle. And she cast a rather conspicuous image for a “spy”. 

_Why couldn’t Severus have asked to meet in the bloody castle?_ She thought bitterly as an Ancient Hieroglyphics textbook almost slipped from her hands. It had been a rather wet spring and she internally grimaced at the thought of dropping her books in the damp grass below. The brilliant white of winter had melted away to lush green. The great swathes of heather were beginning to bloom into colour on the highland hills. Hogwarts was nestled in a vibrant wash of purple and moss. The walk down to the village had Circe’s temperature up, warming her nicely. It was still fairly chilly, with most days covering the sun in low hanging grey clouds. But the last of the April showers were, hopefully, gone and everything had a feeling of freshness or newness to it.

Circe settled into an empty booth at the Three Broomsticks and ordered two butter beers. Her Byronic colleague had yet to appear and she opened up a book. She nestled into the wooden backed chair and busied herself making small annotations and translations in the text. Every so often she would take a sip of her butter beer and look to the swinging door of the pub. Severus was yet to emerge. She sighed to herself and carried on with her reading, trying her best to focus on the words and symbols in front of her, yet she tapped her pen nervously on the page as her mind ticked over the coming conference. After half an hour, she looked up to see Severus swooping through the door. She had not heard him come in, but sighed impatiently at him as he took his seat opposite her. 

“Is there a reason why we’re meeting here, Severus?” 

“The castle is too dangerous. Quirrell could be around any corner.” 

“Severus, he doesn’t exactly have eyes in the back of his head...” 

“All I’m saying is we must be cautious if-“

“Okay okay…” she sighed, interrupting him. She didn’t feel like a Snape lecture today. “Not that I’ve seen much of Quirrel at all this term.” 

“Hmmm.” Severus nodded solemnly in agreement.

Neither of them had seen their suspect much in the past few months. It was like he knew that he was being closely watched by them both. He kept himself to himself, out of sight and out of mind: running hurriedly from classroom to classroom, eating silently by himself at meals, walking in the opposite direction when he saw Circe or Severus in the corridors. Yet Severus had stuck doggedly to his observations, narrowing his eyes and glowering at Quirrell every time he made eye contact. And Quirrell too, it seemed, had doubled down on his nervous-and-helpless act. So much so that Circe was beginning to doubt the allegations Severus had railed against him. Her observations of late had become a little more lax and her mind was now poisoned with ever increasing doubt. 

“Severus…” she began, gently. “Are you sure we’re not just harassing one of our colleagues?” 

“What do you mean?” He asked, folding his arms. 

“I mean… Are you sure about the information you found… That Varallo’s still alive after going completely dead for ten plus years? That it’s really Quirrell?” 

“I am.” He said pointedly. 

She nodded, sighing to herself. “It’s just… I expected him to have slipped up by now or put a foot out of place somewhere.” 

“You doubt me.” He said, accusing her. 

“No. But-“

“But what? 

“But this is really dodgy, Severus!” She said a little too loud for his comfort. “I could lose my job over this if we’re wrong and he complains. You’ve been here longer than me, you might survive it but with me it’ll be ‘last in, first out’. If you’re so sure then why haven’t you been to Dumbledore?”

“Because Dumbledore has a nasty habit of… giving people the benefit of the doubt.” He whispered, checking her with the ferocity of his gaze. “We _must_ have undeniable proof.”

She looked worried. Downing her drink and placing the empty glass on the table, she fidgeted and looked around the room. Anywhere but back at Severus. 

“Look…” Severus said, drawing her green eyes back to him. “Can I trust you to stay on him or not?” 

She hesitated. Just for the briefest fraction of a second, but it was enough. “Ye-“ 

“Never mind.” Severus rose to his feet, his chest feeling like it had been ripped to tatters, and went storming out of the pub without stopping to hear her. 

_Stupid, STUPID old man..._ He scolded himself. _You can’t trust anyone._

He did not stop or look back, even as he went barrelling past Hagrid at the pub’s door. 

“Blimey, Professor!” He said, stepping swiftly to the side to avoid crashing headlong into him. When he got no response from Snape, he turned to the pub’s interior, tutting to himself. He spotted Circe and meandered over to where she still sat with a worried expression on her face. 

“Bloody rude git.” He muttered to her. He was about to sit down where Snape had been when he spotted the untouched butter beer on the table. “Oh, you two weren’t having some sort of a-“

“Oh goodness, no.” Circe replied quickly, before he could finish. She blushed deeply. 

He nodded and laughed heartily to himself. 

“Shame. Woulda been good for Severus to have summit to get ‘im out of the dungeons.” 

Circe forced a laugh too. “Is that why you’re here too, Hagrid?” She asked, deflecting the topic away from her and Snape.”Meeting a nice lady-friend?” 

“Oh Uhh-“ Hagrid cleared his throat and looked around awkwardly. “No I…”

Circe watched Hagrid grow sheepish and shy. She knew enough of kids to know that when they behaved like this, they were trying to hide something. She raised a quizzical brow at Hagrid and smiled. “Oh now you simply must tell me.” She said coquettishly, slamming her book shut and leaning forward. She placed her fist under her chin, listening like a child. Hagrid looked around the room, presumably to check no one was listening in on them. Excitement flashed in his eyes as he leaned close. 

“I’m meetin’ someone who says they’ve got somethin’ I’ve been after for years.” 

“And what’s that?” 

“Oh now that I can’t tell you…” he leaned back on his seat, fumbling for spare change in his pocket. His eyes grew cold and distant again and Circe could tell she’d lose him soon if she didn’t do something quick. She chewed her lip as she thought, watching Hagrid counting the pennies in his large meaty palm. 

“I’ll put ten galleons behind the bar for you and your friend if you tell me who you’re meeting.” 

Hagrid’s eyes bulged. 

“I’m afraid I’ve been saving my pennies for this… uh… thing.” He explained. “Quite expensive, y’see.” 

Circe didn’t respond, just smiled invitingly at the giant and bided her time.

“Ahh alright, but there’s not much t’tell really. Don’t really know much about ‘im. Met him in The Leaky Cauldron over Easter. Said ‘e could get me a… what I wanted.”

“Well knowing you it’s something either for Harry or something dangerous.” 

Hagrid laughed. “Well it’s not the first thing.” He responded. Circe wandered over to the bar and placed a few galleons on the counter for the giant, as per her promise. Just to sweeten the deal, she bought another round of butter beers and ferried them back to their table, pushing one to Hagrid. 

“So what does this guy look like?” She asked. 

Hagrid gulped down half of his pint in one and wiped his mouth. “Dunno. Never saw his face. Only told me the name I should ask for when I met ‘im here. I’m a bit early, y’see.” 

“Oh, what’s his name then?” She pushed. 

“Erm… summit Italian sounding. Maxentius Varallo.” 

Circe’s whole body went cold. She shot to her feet. “Hagrid, when is he meant to be getting here?” She asked desperately. 

“Oh I dunno…” he looked at his watch. “Fifteen minutes or so?” 

She rushed to the door, leaving Hagrid a tad confused at her sudden departure. 

She ran out of the pub and through the streets of Hogsmeade. Perhaps if she was quick enough, she could catch up to Severus before he got back to the castle. However, she struggled to keep up a running pace in her black heeled boots. Plus, she’d not purposefully exercised in years… She passed the Shrieking Shack, panting heavily and almost rolling over on her ankles a fair few times, but still saw no sign of Severus. _How the bloody hell can he walk this fast?!_ She thought. She crested a particularly nasty hill and there, almost at the walls of Hogwarts was Snape. A black smear on the green landscape. 

“Severus!” She cried out as loud as she could. He did not turn. “Severus!!” She shouted again, more desperately. She saw him stop in his tracks, turning his head looking for the noise he’d heard on the wind. 

“Oh for fuck sake, SEVER-“ 

She slipped on the wet grass and went tumbling down the side of the hill.

It was not a particularly bad fall, but it left her stunned and sprawling in the mud and dew. With the wind knocked out of her, and panting from her run, she remained on her back, staring at the sky like an upturned beetle. She’d landed in a coarse thicket of heather and tried in vain to free her coat and hair from the tangle of branches before collapsing back onto her back in exasperation. Then, wandering into her line of sight, on the crest of the hill she’d just fallen down, was Severus. 

“Severus!” She called out again, and in an instant he had spotted her and was charging down the bank to her aid. 

“What have you managed to do this time you clumsy dolt?” He snapped, as he waved his wand. The branches of the heather bush snapped away from her. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. Her head spun slightly as she reeled, still slightly shocked by the fall. Her entire left side was covered in mud and grass stains and Severus tried to pull away from her as she grabbed his sleeve, smearing dirt onto him too. 

“Severus…” she panted his name again. “Hagrid… is meeting… Maxentius Varallo… in the Three Broomsticks.” 

His eyes bulged. “What?! How do you… Well when?!” He stuttered. 

“Now! Today!” 

“And you left?!” 

“To come and get you! To back me up…” 

“Come on.” He dragged her along with him, back towards Hogsmeade. 

Severus almost kicked down the door to The Three Broomsticks. Circe cringed but followed him inside, close behind him. 

“Hey!” Rosmurta shouted at them. “You’ll be paying to fix that if you break it.” 

Severus didn’t even look at her, instead scanning the interior of the pub for Varallo. Circe saw Hagrid before Snape did, and she pushed past him and confronted him. 

“Hagrid, has Varallo been here?” She asked, unable to keep the desperation out of her voice. 

“Bloody hell, Circe what ‘appened to you?” Hagrid said, looking from her mud-smeared coat to her face. His eyes traveled over to Severus as he walked over to join Circe. “You been rolling about in the bushes after all…?” He asked cheekily. 

“Hagrid, where’s Maxentius Varallo?” She asked again. 

“Gone. Left about three minutes ago…” Hagrid raised an unfamiliar new bag to his chest, cradling it protectively. “Why?” 

“Fuck!” Severus shouted, turning from them in frustration. He strode out of the pub in pursuit, leaving Circe on her own. 

“Did you see his face, Hagrid?”

“No, it was like last time. He kept ‘is face hidden.” 

“Bugger…” she too turned away from Hagrid and rushed outside to follow Severus. Hagrid breathed a sigh of relief and quietly slipped away to tend to his new pet in the privacy of his hut…

“Severus, don’t lose heart. He was here, you were right!”

“That was our chance!” He roared. “Why didn’t you bloody stay put, you cretin?!”

She felt the vicious word’s knife edge stab in to her chest. Circe knew he was frustrated, it radiated off him as he paced in the street, but still she couldn’t help feeling hurt. 

“Look..” she said, trying to calm him. “He’s making mistakes. Meeting people in broad daylight in a place like Hogsmeade where he could run into people? Think about it, he’s getting desperate.” 

“Why?”

Circe shrugged her shoulders. “But that means he’ll make mistakes again.” 

Severus sighed deeply. “Soon? Before he gets what he’s after?”

She had no reply. He turned to face her, almost imploring her for an answer she couldn’t give. She set her face into a puzzled frown and breathed out slowly, the last of the adrenaline leaving her. 

“We _both_ stay on him.” She said with fierce determination, purposefully using Snape’s own words from earlier. The tears in Severus’s chest seemed to knit back together at seeing her newfound resolve. He felt a swell of pride as he beheld her: dirty, dishevelled, downtrodden, but burning with tenacity and commitment. He nodded back to her. 

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go and pick the heather out of my hair…” 

  
  


* * *

Circe was dreaming of bookshops and rain-soaked cities. Of browsing old record stores with someone who she kept handing over recommendations to. Someone who had a voice of velvet and honey and a presence as dense as thunderclouds. She had the taste of whiskey on her tongue and old folk songs in her ear. But when she turned to them, all she saw was a turban-headed figure, their back to her. The dream turned sour as the turban began to unravel and envelop Circe in a suffocating grip. She called out helplessly, no words rising in her throat. Her screams were silent as the purple silk crushed her, spinning in demonic tendrils from the figure in her nightmare. 

She was torn from her dream as she heard hard, loud knocks on her bedroom door. Her heart was pounding out of her chest as she looked to the sturdy oak door. Still half-asleep, she thought she may have dreamt it. But when the knocks came again, louder and more urgent, she almost jumped out of her skin. She fumbled in the dark for her glasses on her bedside table and picked up her wand for good measure. 

“Hello…?” She called out tentatively. When no answer came, she encircled the door handle with her fingers and raised her wand. The lights outside flooded into her room as the door flew open and there, looking as pale as marble, was Severus. He looked haunted. Dark circles hung under his eyes and he appeared like he hadn’t seen sleep in days. 

“Severus?” She asked, lowering her wand. “What time is it?” 

“There have been some developments…” his voice trailed off as his sight settled on her. Circe cast her eyes down at her feet and realised what she’d gone to bed in: a pair of knickers and a loosely buttoned pyjama top. Her legs were completely bare, the pyjama bottoms cast to the floor as she got too hot at night. She blushed fiercely as she pulled the edges of her shirt around her. 

“Th-there’s been an incident in the forest tonight.” He continued, trying to keep his eyes fixed on her face.

“Severus, are you alright?” She asked, looking into his wild and frightful eyes. “You look like you haven’t slept for days.” 

“I…” his hand instinctively flew to his wrist, where the Dark Mark on his skin tingled. Until that night, he’d believed it may be in his mind, that he was imagining the itch in the now faded ink. But now, it was undeniably there. Faint. But there… 

“Come inside.” She said, flinging the door open. When he did not move, she scoffed and grabbed his wrist, pulling him inside. The feel of her fingers on top of the Dark Mark was like aloe to a burn. “Go through to the conservatory, but try not to wake up Minerva.” 

“Minerva’s up. She was called to look after the Potter boy and his friends as they’re all Gryffindors. I just had to tuck the Malfoy boy back into his bed, he was shaking so badly...” 

  
  


Severus walked on, like a man in a dream. A bad, nasty dream. 

“Wait, why?” Circe asked, throwing a dressing gown around her as Severus sunk into a chair. 

“You didn’t tell me that Hagrid had a dragon’s egg.” 

“He had a what?!” She asked, flabbergasted.

“A dragon egg. It’s what he was buying from Varallo. Potter and company were caught by Malfoy visiting him and his new pet the other night.” 

“He didn’t tell me.” She cut in. “That day in the Three Broomsticks, he wouldn’t tell me what he was getting.”

“Just… listen!” He said, his temper flaring. “Out in the forest tonight, during their detention… Potter says he saw something...” 

Circe sat down on the coffee table in front of him, watching him wringing his hands. 

“Severus, when was the last time you had a good night’s sleep?” She asked cautiously. She knew full well that he’d renewed with vigour his surveillance efforts on Quirrell since their conversation on the Hogsmeade streets. She too had been keeping tabs on the Professor, using her small legion of Ancient Studies students to report back to her on wherever he was in the school. Percy Weasley really was a sucker for house points... It had been unofficially agreed between them that the nighttime was Severus’s domain. And guessing on the lateness of the hour and the realisation that Severus would never be knocking on her door if it weren’t to do with their secret mission, it must be something pertaining to Quirrell.

“What did Harry see?” She asked again. 

“I've had tabs on him all week…” Severus muttered to himself. 

“Severus!?” She asked again, rather more forcefully. He noticeably flinched and looked up at her, shaken from his brooding trance. She opened her hands, as if to say ‘well?’. 

“Something… someone in the forest. Drinking blood from a unicorn.” 

Circe gasped and covered her mouth. It was almost sacrilegious to kill an animal like that. 

“Good God…” she breathed. “It’s a wonder he wasn’t killed.” 

“The centaurs are up in arms. And they tell us that maimed and injured unicorns have been turning up ever since the New Year. But this… this is the last straw.” 

Severus rose out of his chair and began pacing up and down the conservatory. 

“But why would Quirrell be killing unicorns?” She asked as she watched him nervously fidgeting. 

“Think, Circe!” He said sharply, turning suddenly back to her. “If you’d spent the whole year trying to find the Stone, but so far had been thwarted, what might you turn to?”

“But… but why? Quirrell’s not dying. Why would he want unicorn blood to revive him? It doesn’t make sense…” 

_Maybe it’s not for him._ Severus thought to himself as a chill went up his spine. Almost on cue, he felt his Dark Mark twinge again. Severus rubbed his eyelids and sighed deeply. He looked like he was about to collapse. 

“I’m guessing that Quirrell slipped out of your observation tonight.” Circe said gently. 

“Every night this week I’ve had my eye on him!” He complained to her. “And tonight, somehow, he slips past me…”

“Every night? It’s probably because you’re exhausted, Severus. We should have divided up the night time observations equally. Look at you, you’re manic!” She rose to her feet too, approaching him slowly. Severus was too tired to argue back. Or to even acknowledge the pang of care in her words to him. He looked up at the stars, through the glass roof and into the darkness, utterly lost in his own thoughts. Circe saw the turmoil in his mind and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. She felt his muscles tense up beneath her touch as she did so and his head snapped back to the earth from the heavens above. 

“Where was he last thing today?” He said after a quiet few moments. 

“The last thing I heard, he was in the Library with his Sixth Years.” 

“Then I shall go there. See what I can find.” 

“No, Severus, you’re going to bed.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. The trail will go cold by morning and he’ll have time to cover his tracks...” 

“Look, what realistically can we do tonight. What can _he_ do tonight? It must be almost dawn anyway…” 

Severus paused and considered her reasoning. The lack of sleep and the bad tidings had him feeling vulnerable and oddly emotional. How he wished he could lie down in the greenery of this conservatory with Circe and drift off peacefully whilst she stroked his hair. It was the fantasy of a half-deranged, neurotic man. His stomach churned as he acknowledged the thought and he pushed it away, deep down into his gut. 

“No! I have to… There must be-“

“Oh, you stubborn old git. Alright, then I’m coming with you.” 

Severus did not have time to argue with her before she turned from the conservatory and started the walk to the Library. 

They both patrolled the halls, wands out, casting the Lumos spell to illuminate the way. Circe shivered and drew her dressing gown tighter around her. Severus cast a beady eye over her, spotting her bare feet on the cold flagstones and furrowed his brow. 

“You could have at least put some shoes on.” 

“You wouldn’t have waited.” 

He growled, conceding that she was probably right. They entered the library, peeling apart the huge doors and slipping silently inside. The shelves of old books stood cloaked in darkness, uniformly stacked away by the Librarian. In the half-light of the rapidly approaching dawn the shelves stood like ominous giant tombstones in the indigo light. It was yet another place in Hogwarts that felt unsettling when not busy with students. The smell of the old leather and parchment, normally heaven to a Ravenclaw like Circe, did little to comfort either of them. 

“Where do we start?” She asked Severus.

“The Librarian keeps an enchanted ledger that records down each book that has been checked out by a student... or staff member.” 

They silently paced the halls of desks and reading tables, hurrying over to the Librarian’s station. Severus looked around conspicuously as he opened a draw and began rifling through it. As he searched, Circe hopped from one foot to another, wiggling her toes to try and stave off the cold. Eventually, he pulled out a weighty, thick tome and slammed it onto the desk. 

“Severus! Shhhh!” Circe chided. 

“I’m not a child sneaking around after bedtime.” He shot back. “When a student runs through the darkness, they’re running from me.”

Circe snorted and rolled her eyes. “Alright, Dirty Harry.” 

“Who?”

“Never mind…” 

Severus thumbed through the pages until he got to the most recent entries. He ran his finger down through the list of names and books. After a while he growled and slammed the book closed. 

“Nothing from Quirrell.” He spat. “Not for the whole week.” 

Circe walked over to the record book and opened it back up, starting to scan the pages herself. She sighed too, seeing a noticeable absence in Quirrell's name. She absentmindedly turned the pages back, looking at entries from earlier in the year. There, in March, was Quirrell’s name next to ‘ _Le Livre de Philosophique’._ She flicked back, and there it was again in February, same book. Any time Quirrell’s name appeared in the ledger, it was next to this book. Once Severus had calmed down, he saw Circe flicking through the pages and muttering to herself as she spied each entry under Quirrell’s name. 

“He’s checked out the same book seven times at least.” Severus said, peering over her shoulder at her discoveries.

“With the most recent time being two weeks ago.”

“But what book is that?” He asked. 

“It’s Nicholas Flamel’s book.” She answered simply. “All his findings on the Philosopher’s Stone and the magical properties it harvests.” 

Severus stood up straight, processing the information. “Well, it’s damning, but we already suspected Quirrell was after it. It doesn’t help us much.” 

“No, but…” Circe paused, turning back to the most recent of entries. 

“But what?” He asked, intrigued by the new puzzled look that had bloomed on her face. 

“But the last person to check the book out _today_ wasn’t Quirrell.” 

“What?”

“Mmmm. And for the life of me, I can’t think of any reason why they’d even pick this literature up… at their age.” 

“Who?” Severus asked, on bated breath. When Circe looked up to meet his eyes, she was a picture of bewilderment. 

“Hermione Granger.” 


	8. "Shake it up, baby."

Circe was dozing dreamily in the early summer sun. The dappled light shone on her face through the tree which she snoozed under. It was the late afternoon on Friday. Teaching was done for the day. She was aching for a Pimms. 

Earlier that day she had signed an employment agreement with Dumbledore for the continuation of her role at Hogwarts. Uptake for next year’s Ancient Studies classes had doubled and she felt satisfied with her efforts. She breathed a sigh of well-earned relief and listened contentedly to the sounds of far away children at play and birdsong in the boughs above. A smile had settled on her lips as she rested in the warmth of July. 

A black shadow passed over her closed eyelids and she opened one eye tentatively. 

“Come to enjoy the sun, Professor Snape?” 

“We need to talk.” He replied simply. She could not see his face in the glare of the sun but sensed from his tone that he was agitated. 

“A herd of wild horses could not compel me to move from here, Severus…” she replied dreamily. “Why don’t you sit down here?”

He shifted on his feet and looked around him, thinking about how next to proceed. When he was sure he was out of eyesight of the students, he reluctantly lowered himself down and sat on the grass beside her. 

“I think something is going to happen soon.” He said, looking out across the lake. 

“What makes you say that?” She asked, sitting up and reclining back on her arm. Her hair fluttered softly in the breeze and fell across her face. Her white blouse was dazzling in the sun, casually unbuttoned down past her breasts, revealing her simple white vest beheath and her bare, perfumed collarbone. On the breeze, he caught the delicious scent of her: peony and blushed suede. In the golden afternoon sun, she looked almost like a renaissance painting. 

“Up in the courtyard, I overheard Potter and his friends conspiring.” 

“About what?”

“Me.” He looked to her as he spoke. He was her dark checkerboard square to her white. They made for a rather contrasting couple, both sitting together under the boughs of the tree in their monochromatic outfits. Circe almost admired Severus’s commitment to black, even in the heat of the summer. 

“Oh don’t be such a tease, tell me what they said.” 

“They seem to think that I’m the one that’s been causing all of this hassle. Heard Potter outright accuse me of being the braggart who sold Hagrid the egg.” 

“Ha! Of course they do…” 

“Well it wouldn’t be the first time I was the villain of someone’s story.” 

“But what are they doing, Severus? Sneaking about, checking out Flamel’s book...” 

“God knows. They were in conspiratorial whispers with one another when I overheard them. I almost confronted them, said that they were outright up to something. Weasley almost wet himself and Potter thought it was some kind of staring competition.” 

“Remind me to tell Minerva to keep an extra careful eye on them.” 

“I’m afraid Minerva will have her hands full over the next few days.” Severus said, rifling through his pocket. 

“Why?” 

“This was pinned to the notice board in the Staff Room.” Severus handed her a piece of paper. Circe unfolded it and read to herself: 

_“Staff,_

_I’ve been called away to the Ministry on urgent business. Details lacking but I was advised to come ASAP. Please forward on any queries for me to Minerva as the temporary Head in my absence._

_Dumbledore”_

“Odd.” Circe surmised to him.

“Indeed.” Severus agreed. “Especially as Quirrell has been absent due to “illness” for the past week or so.” 

“Severus…” she asked, pausing to sit up straight and catch his eye. “Do you get the feeling that this is something like the calm before the storm?” 

He nodded solemnly. 

“If I was a betting man, I’d say something was going to happen tonight. If I was a clever man, I myself might even try to make a grab for the Stone now Dumbledore is out of the castle.” 

“You know… if you really think he’s going to try something...you could try and catch Quirrell red handed. With his hands in the proverbial biscuit tin.” 

Severus scoffed and stood up. “That’s if I could even get past all of the Stone’s protection myself.” 

Circe too rose to her feet and faced him head on. “I’d come with you.” 

“No.” He replied quickly. 

“Yes, Severus. Think about it. You know your level of protection. I know mine. And we both know what Sprout planted thanks to her slip up at the beginning of the year in Dumbledore’s office. I mean, between the two of us I’m sure we could figure out Flitwick and Minerva’s enchantments. Really, there’s no two people in Hogwarts better equipped to do this than you and I...”

“You don’t know about the dog.” Severus replied, raising his brow. 

“What dog?” She asked, taken aback. 

Severus took one last look out over the lake and sighed. It looked like he was going headlong into danger, with Circe refusing to let him go it alone. _She’s too stubborn to take no for an answer now_ , he thought. _And she is, rather infuriatingly, right about our collective knowledge. Perhaps it would be nice to have a companion to jump into the abyss with…_

“What did you do with that guitar ornament from Christmas?” 

* * *

Severus waited for Circe to materialise on the lower floor of the stairway. They had planned to meet in this location a few hours after dark before bracing the trials of the third floor. He watched the staircases move silently, switching their positions supposedly at random whilst the innumerable portraits around him snoozed dreamily. _Why do they bother going to sleep?_ He wondered. _Do portraits feel tired?_ Severus couldn’t picture a future in which anyone would want a portrait of him after his death, let alone a version of him that actually liked to sleep. Sleep was when his mind would torment him with unfiltered and unwarranted thoughts and feelings. Nightmares that gripped him with a terror that shook his bones, sadness that would leave his chest feeling hollow and crippled, faces of those he’d rather forget, nonsense speech of words he was desperate to remember. Things that lay buried and suppressed in the day came roaring to life with a frightening intensity when he slipped into dreams. 

He had dreamt of Lily the night before, but a Lily that he had never known: a reproachful, vengeful spirit that clawed at his face and cried out in a jealous rage. She had screamed at him like a banshee, calling him “traitor”, “disloyal”. He knew in his heart, having conjured the image from deep within his psyche, that she wasn’t referencing his previous sidings with the Dark Lord. But in his waking mind, he could not fathom exactly why she had called him those things regardless. Or perhaps, he chose not to remember... 

“Severus…” a voice whispered to him, in the shadows at his back. He turned sharply to the source of the noise and there was Circe. She carried nothing with her save for her wand and the small glass ornament that she had squirreled away as a keepsake after last Christmas. “Are you ready?” she asked. 

Severus nodded in reply. “I heard someone moving about on the upper floors about half an hour ago. Couldn’t tell who it was, but they were definitely there.”

“Well, if you _were_ a betting man, Severus, the drinks would have been on you tomorrow.” 

“Mmmm.” he grumbled, taking little pleasure in the fact that he had been right. “Come on.” 

In unison, they stepped onto a staircase that lifted them up the floors to the threshold of the third floor corridor. Circe walked inquisitively to the door that barred the way, fumbling with the already open lock. 

“Well, if we were in any doubt before that someone was going to break in…” 

“Bit careless of Quirrell to not lock it behind him after he’d passed through though, don’t you think?” 

“A little.” she agreed, nodding thoughtfully to herself. She placed a hand on the door and stood still for a while. Circe thought she felt quite the commotion happening on the other side of the door...but no sound. “Is there a silencing charm placed on this door?” she asked.

“Of course. Wouldn’t want that great bloody dog barking the entire school down and alerting everyone to its presence.” 

“Severus, come feel.” she said, grabbing his sleeve and forcing his hand to the door. Severus too felt the hard, powerful thuds of commotion happening on the other side. 

“What the bloody hell is he doing?” Severus asked, pulling away. “He knows that the monster responds to music. Why has he deliberately got it agitated?” 

“How big is this thing, Severus? It sounds massive.” 

“Huge. I’m surprised it didn’t tear all of my leg off at Hallowe’en.” 

“Oh good God, so that’s what injured you on that night…?” Circe breathed in deep and tried to settle her nerves. Her stomach was already doing somersaults. _Come on, you haven’t even started the trials yet._ She said to herself. _You can’t be scared already._ She reached into her pocket and pulled out the guitar ornament, casting the engorgio charm on it once more. It bulged into life-sized in her hands and she tweaked a few strings to tune. She nodded solemnly to Severus when she was ready. 

Severus flung the door open and instantly, the cacophonous sound of three dog heads barking at an alarming volume rattled her skull. Against her base instinct to turn and run, she willed herself inside and began strumming something, anything that came to mind. Fluffy’s many heads snapped up at them and he stopped scraping agitatedly away at the trap door on the floor. Three drooling, fanged sets of knashers began advancing on her. Circe faltered and played a bum note, which elicited a growl from one of the heads. Her mind went completely blank as panic seized her and her hands froze, hovering over the strings. 

“Play something!” Severus shouted.

“What?!”

“Anything! Now isn’t the time for stage fright!” 

“Tell me something quick then!” 

“I don’t know music! I told you!” Fluffy snapped his three massive jaws together with a murderous look in his eyes.

“You must know something….Say anything!” She pleaded, barely audible above the thunder-like growls.

“I don’t know… ummm… The Beatles…” 

“Which song..?”

“I haven’t a clue! I DON’T KNOW MUSIC!” 

“How can you not know any of The Beatles?!” She asked, shaking in fright. 

Fluffy pounced at them and they both dodged to either side of his massive paws. Circe’s mind fog finally cleared thanks to the threat of imminent death by mauling and she started strumming out a bit of ‘Twist and Shout’. The great dog suddenly closed its jaws and looked upon Circe with inquisition. All three heads cocked to the side and started swaying to the beat of the tune. 

“It’s working, thank God.” Breathed Severus. “Sing too!” 

“We’ll shake it up baby now

Shake it up, baby.

Twist and Shout. 

Twist and shout…” 

Circe sucked in her breath, hungry for air. The dog’s faces twitched as her singing stopped. 

“Help me out with the refrains, Severus.” 

“What…?” 

“Just repeat what I say.” 

  
  


“We’ll shake it up baby, now.” 

“Sh-shake it up… baby.” Severus cringed deeply at himself. 

“Twist and shout.”

“...Twist and shout.” 

“Come on, come on, come on baby now.” 

“Come on baby.” 

“Open that trapdoor out...” 

Severus looked to her, confusion on his face. She nodded desperately to the door on the floor as she relentlessly kept on playing and singing. 

“Come get that trapdoor open, Sev.

Open it, Sev. 

Your singing is no good. 

Is no good..” 

Severus paused in his heaving to cast her a scowl. She laughed at him and gave him a wink. Fluffy yawned contentedly and slid to the floor in slumber. 

“You know we gotta be going, Fluffy.

Gotta be going.

So go to sleep for good.

Go to sleep for good, woooooo!” 

With her final howl she jumped through the open door into the chamber below. Severus followed in hot pursuit. 

* * *

Severus made short work of the Devil’s Snare, freeing Circe from the grasp of its tendrils with his charm. The only casualty of their encounter with the deadly plant was the guitar; smashed to pieces breaking her fall as she slipped from the tentacle-like grip. 

_Let’s hope Severus has a newfound love of singing_ Circe thought, thinking about how they were going to get past Fluffy on the way out.

They passed through into the adjacent room to a sky full of tiny fluttering wings. Circe’s mouth hung open as her eyes darted from tiny winged key to tiny winged key. They were so numerous that it was as if the cathedral-like ceiling was full of glitter. Severus walked solemnly over to where a lone broom sat hovering in the center of the room and turned back to Circe.

“Well, time to redeem yourself, Hufflepuff-eater.” 

Circe grimaced as he let slip that he’d heard her old Quidditch nickname. _Probably when he was hiding from me in the staff room…_

“Wait… what’s that supposed to mean?” She asked defensively. 

“After the way you froze up in front of that Cerberus..?” Severus responded, sneering at her. “You led me to believe that you weren’t going to be a liability on this mission.”

“Excuse me, Mister Culturally Dead, but the last time I checked you weren’t exactly a guitar hero.” 

“I could have charmed an instrument…”

“And pardon me for feeling a tad threatened by the three-headed big boy behemoth who was eyeing me up like a squeaky toy!” 

“If you want to go toe to toe with a dark wizard you’re going to have to work _much_ harder to suppress that fight or flight response, Circe.” He spat, pointing a finger in her face. She slapped it away, her hackles raised. 

“Don’t lecture me, _Professor._ I’m just as capable as you. We’re still alive aren’t we? And as I recall, the last time you tried to do this alone, you came limping back to safety with your tail between your legs!” 

He had no response, he just stared at her seething with anger. 

Circe breathed out a long sigh and looked up at the swarm of keys. After a moment’s searching she spotted the key that most likely fit the ancient lock on the door. It was a tiny little thing, and her eyesight was not what it used to be when she was on the Quidditch team in school. She breathed deeply to calm herself and straddled the broom. The keys descended on her instantly, in a flurry of scrapes and stings. 

“Jesus Christ, these things are like bees!” She shouted as she rose up into the ceiling space.

“Oh, what a shame. I’m sure you’ll cope, you’re _capable._ ” Snape responded sarcastically. 

Circe tried to outrun the swarm, closing in on the key she had targeted. She had always been a beater, not a seeker, and keeping her eye on the minuscule moving target proved difficult. Yet after a while, her fist enclosed around it and she called back down to Snape. “Catch it and unlock the door, Severus!”

Snape made no move to acknowledge that he’d heard her, and as she threw it down to him he remained stoically stood with his arms crossed across his chest. The key fluttered away back into the cavernous roof. 

“Oh I’m sorry, did you speak to me? I think I’m now “Mister Culturally Dead”.” He said, his voice dripping in sarcasm. 

“Oh for fuck sake.” Circe muttered as she grabbed the key again. “We can have our married couple’s tiff when we’ve caught Quirrell. Now unlock the door, Snape!” 

Snape blushed and the next time she threw the key down to him, he caught it without complaint.

The door yawned open and he stood aside, holding it open for her. Circe swiftly dismounted from the broom, throwing it unceremoniously on the floor, and went sprinting to safety from the stinging keys. As soon as she was over the threshold, Snape slammed the door shut behind her, hearing the tiny little thuds of the keys crashing into the wood. 

As Circe lay panting on the floor, she turned towards Severus and gave him a knowing look. 

“Truce, Severus?” She asked, extending a hand. 

“Truce.” He extended his own and helped her up to her feet.

* * *

Circe passed through the purple fire, the feeling of ice in her belly. She had her eyes closed as she felt the flames licking at her skin. A tickle but not a burn. Severus’s hand enclosed around her wrist and guided her to the other side confidently.

“You’re through now.” He said slowly. “Open your eyes.” 

“Wow, that felt weird.” Circe said, chuckling slightly. 

“If I am completely honest I wasn’t sure there was enough of the correct potion left for us both to pass through safely.” 

“Oh, cheers Severus.” She responded coldly. 

“Would you have felt better if I’d had told you that before you stepped through the flames?” 

“No… probably not.” She conceded. “Why was there so little left in that vial?” 

“I was just thinking that myself.” 

“Quirrell alone shouldn’t have drunk that much of it.”

“No.” 

They walked on to the next room, both in silent thought. 

“Do you think he has an accomplice that we don’t know about?”

“Possibly. But I’ve been intercepting all of his correspondence since the New Year and there was nothing there to hint at a partner in crime.” 

“And neither of us have seen him meeting with anyone here at Hogwarts.” 

They strode together down a long, dark corridor, both of them lost in thought. 

“Oh, congrats on the puzzle by the way.” Circe said. “A lot of wizards don’t have a scrap of logic in their brains, they’d have never been able to figure out your level of protection.” 

“Oh.. uh.. Thank you.” Snape replied awkwardly. “I thought it was simple, but effective. If I’m right, we should be coming to your level of protection next. That will be a fairly simple task too, I imagine-” 

“Yeah, about that…” Circe interrupted. 

The room which they had just entered erupted into light. Huge flame torches ignited around the walls, casting deep ominous shadows in their wake. In front of them was a huge set of bronze scales, etched with ancient hieroglyphic symbols and embedded with lapis lazuli. On one end of the scales sat a pure white feather, seemingly hovering in mid air, which glowed with a heavenly golden hue. The other end of the scales was empty. And standing like an ancient sentinel next to them was a fifty foot high statue of the Egyptian God Thoth. 

“Professor, what the bloody hell is this?” Snape asked angrily, scanning the contents of the room. 

“The weighing of the heart rite, from The Book of the Dead.” Circe responded simply. “You must weigh yourself against the feather of the goddess  _ Maat _ , the goddess of truth. Only when you are not found lacking, and the scales tip in your favour, can you be granted the scarab-key...”  __ She pointed to the roof and there hanging just out of reach was an inscribed stone scarab about the size of a fist. 

“So how do we tip the scales so that we weigh less than a blasted feather?!” 

“The great god Thoth…” she pointed to the looming statue by the scales. “Will quiz you and decide your fate. He is the god of knowledge. He holds the answers to many things on his scribes.” 

Severus looked at the ibis-headed god with contempt. True to her word, the statue held in his hands a small roll of papyrus and a thin quill poised above the paper. He could read nothing in the beady black bird’s eyes as he stared down his beak at them both, seemingly watching he and Circe approach the scale. 

“ _ Quiz _ you?” Severus asked, hoping for clarification.

“Riddles.” 

“Ah…” 

As soon as their feet touched the golden disc of the scale, the statue sprang to life, bowing its great head to them. Severus flinched and strode to Circe’s side, ready to protect her, as the statue lowered his arms slowly. 

“ _ Who approaches Thoth to weigh their hearts against the Feather of Truth? _ ” the statue boomed. 

“Professors Circe Smith and Severus Snape.” responded Circe. 

“ _ Three riddles I shall ask. Respond with truth and you shall ascend, respond with falsehood and you shall suffer the consequences. _ ”

“Well we should make short work of this, Professor. This is after all your creation so you should know all of the answers before he finishes speaking!” 

“Professor Snape, there are over three hundred different riddles and spells in the Book of the Dead alone…I told you before I didn’t keep a record of anything I used for this. ” 

“So you don’t know.” 

“The answer to three hundred different riddles? Of course not!” 

Severus had no reply for her. The scales groaned and creaked as the disc they stood upon lifted them up so they sat level with the feather. Severus cast a sidelong look at her and steeled himself. He nodded. 

“We are ready.” Circe said to the statue.

“ _ I talk, but I do not speak my mind _

_ I hear words, but I do not listen to thoughts _

_ When I wake, all see me _

_ When I sleep, all hear me _

_ Many heads are on my shoulders _

_ Many hands are at my feet _

_ The strongest steel cannot break my visage _

_ But the softest whisper can destroy me _

_ The quietest whimper can be heard.” _

Circe’s face fell. Severus too became slightly worried. He looked to her as she furiously puzzled, thinking it through. She had her tongue stuck out to the left side of her mouth again, and Severus knew from this she was deep in concentration. 

“You don’t know do you?” he asked flatly. 

“Let’s just think about this for a minute…”

“Oh this is ridiculous.” Severus strode up to the statue, grabbing on to one of the thick bronze chains that kept their disc suspended. 

“Severus wait…”

“A liar.” he said to Thoth, completely guessing.

“Severus!” 

The floor beneath their disc fell away in an instant, revealing a deep cavernous hell-pit. Severus looked down into the newly open hole and gasped as he saw a hideous crocodile-headed monster waiting for him with snapping jaws. The disc lurched downwards and Severus and Circe cried out, hanging on to the chains for dear life. They stopped just short of the ground, now perilously close to the mouth of the monster. 

“If we are found lacking, our hearts will be fed to Sobek, the crocodile God!” Circe shouted at him. The beast beneath them roared, almost punctuating her point. 

“You couldn’t have told me that before?” 

“Would you have felt better if I did?!” she replied sarcastically, mimicking his reply from earlier. 

“ _ The correct answer was, an actor.”  _ Thoth informed them. 

“We have two riddles left. We have to get them both right, otherwise we’ll never reach the scarab.” Circe said, leaving out what would happen to them if they got one wrong. 

“ _ I am a house, but not a home.  _

_ One enters blind, but comes out seeing.  _

_ Although despised by many, I am insanely craved by some.  _

_ And even though I’m all stress and work, I only want to improve your being _ .”

“Oh, this is good.” Circe said, her mood brightening. “I remember this one. Any guesses Severus?” she asked, smiling at him. 

“Are you serious?” he asked, incredulously. “If you know then tell him the bloody answer.” 

“Oh no, go on…”

He sighed deeply, folding his arms. “Lets see.. a place in which you enter blind, metaphorically I’m presuming, and come out seeing. Despised by many…” he pondered. “School.” he said resolutely as the lightbulb moment came. 

“School.” Circe told Thoth confidently. 

The Thoth statue was unmoving and silent as Severus held his breath. The confirmation came when the disc was raised upwards slowly, and they were once again level with the feather. Severus cast his eye up to the scarab that still hung tantalisingly just out of reach above him. 

“Last chance.” he said.

_ “The rich men want it,  _

_ the wise men know it, _

_ the poor all need it,  _

_ the kind men show it.” _

“Well?” Sape asked expectantly. 

“Ah shit…” Circe muttered, turning to Severus wide eyed.

“Please tell me you’re joking.” 

Circe shook her head slowly. “Let’s just talk it through. You know these types of things, they seem obvious once you hear the answer.” 

“But we don’t know the answer!” He shouted. “We are royally fucked!”

Sobek roared beneath them, rattling the great brass chains they still clung to.

“Shut up! Let me think…What do rich men want that they don’t already have?”

“Pfft… um. Happiness? That would work for the kind men too.” 

“But what wise man do you know that’s ever happy?” She responded. “And you can be poor and happy too.” 

“Then what?” Severus asked shortly. 

Circe sat down and put her head into her hands. She thumped at her skull and moaned, desperately trying to conjure up the answer. Severus too began to pace the edges of the disc like a caged tiger. He stole a furtive glance over the edge at the monster pit beneath him and swallowed hard. Sobek paced around its edges, just like he did.

Then, almost in unison, it came to them. Severus froze almost in mid-step. Circe snapped her head up from her lap. They locked eyes and stared at one another. Wordlessly, they sussed that the other had come to the same conclusion. 

“Does it work…?” Circe asked, doubting her epiphany briefly.

“For each one, yes.” 

Circe laughed at the simplicity of it. She rose to her feet and touched Severus on the arm.

“You say it. Redeem yourself, Snape.” She added with a wink.

Severus initially bristled at her comment but decided not to retaliate. He relinquished his pride to her and gave a small smirk. He cast his eyes on the emotionless face of Thoth, who waited stoically for their answer. 

“Love.” 

Thoth gave away nothing. And in the suspenseful silence that followed, there was no noise other than the pounding of both of their hearts. The scales creaked beneath them. Lurching this way and that, teasing them for the briefest of seconds with the outcome. The disc rose and Severus almost jumped for joy. Circe squealed as the scarab lowered into her outstretched hands. She snatched it down from the sky and cradled it to her chest. Sobek roared in a blood-chilling way one last time as the hell pit closed, denying him his fleshy feast.

“What do we do with it now?” Severus asked. 

Circe extended it out to Severus, beaming from ear to ear. He took the scarab from her, his hand lingering on top of hers for an excruciating moment.

“Give it to him.” Circe said, her voice a hoarse whisper. Her eyes darted back to Thoth and she watched a flicker of something she couldn’t quite place pass over Severus’s face.

Once where there had been the look of a predator eyeing up prey, there was now something softer. Something sweeter. A look that made her legs feel like mush. It had been gentle and slow, she realised. Like a frog sitting in a boiling tub of water. A complete surprise, but not really… Much like a small animal that is being stalked, she realised too late that she was gone. Her crush on Severus had rather successfully snuck up on her. 

She watched as Severus extended the scarab out to Thoth. The giant took it from him in one of his great hands and much like Circe had done, cradled it to his own chest. Light shone from his core which blinded them both and made them turn from the dazzling rays. When they looked back, a door had emerged in the chest of the statue. Severus was the first to climb down from the scales, extending a hand out to Circe to assist her. She didn’t resist the goosebumps that bloomed up and down her arms as their skin touched. 

“Once more unto the breach, dear friends.” Severus said, pausing at the door to turn to her. 

“Shakespeare.” Circe said with a nod of approval. 

“I’m not totally culturally dead.” 

“Nor emotionally either, it seems. You big old softie.” 

“What?”

_ “The rich men want it, the wise men know it, the poor all need it, the kind men show it.”  _ she repeated. 

“Ugh.” he groaned. “I feel I may vomit. It sounds like one of your t-shirts.” 

_ Well, let's perhaps stick to one startling revelation at a time.  _ Circe thought to herself. 

“Shall we?” she gestured to him to enter through the door before them. 

“We shall.”

Severus strode off with that determined swagger that she had come to know him for. Against her better judgement, Circe found herself wondering if his bum, somewhere beneath those great swathes of black cloth, was as pale as his face... 


	9. "From me to you."

Circe barely had time to adjust to her new surroundings before she heard the desperate, panicked voices of children. Voices she recognised.

“Hermione!?” She called out in complete shock. She looked out across the giant chessboard, towards where the young girl crouched amidst rubble and dust, the remains of chess pieces everywhere. Circe ran towards the bushy haired girl and the still body of the Weasley boy she crouched beside. 

“Hermione what happened?” She asked again, touching Ron’s face and checking him for signs of life.

“Me and Harry and Ron… we came here because we had to stop Professor-“ she halted in her tracks as her face fell on Professor Snape. “But-but that means…” she stuttered. 

“Severus, we must have caught up to them.” Circe said, turning to him. “It must have been them you heard moving about on the third floor.” 

“But you said you came here after someone?” Snape queried. 

“Yes, Harry thought that the Stone was going to be stolen tonight by… Well, by Professor Snape. They were always one step ahead of us…”

Circe gasped. The final pieces of the mystery fitting into place. Why the book had been checked out by her, why the dog was so agitated, why there was barely enough potion left for her and Severus… It felt like everyone had run circles around her: Quirrell, Snape, even her own students. 

“Where is Potter?” Severus asked, searching the looming chess pieces. Circe watched him frantically scanning the decimated board, seemingly now more rattled than he had been all evening. 

“Gone. Gone ahead by himself once Ron…” she faltered and began to cry. Circe laid an arm around the girl and shushed her gently. 

“He’s alright, honey. Just got a bit of a concussion, I think.” 

“Professor, stay here with the children and send a message to Dumbledore immediately.” Severus instructed, without breaking to even look at her. She stood up and leaned in close to Severus.

“You don’t think Quirrell will hurt him, do you…?” she asked in a hushed whisper. 

“If he does I shall eviscerate the two-faced bastard.” Severus said through clenched teeth, his knuckles turned white as he gripped his wand tightly. The last evidence of Lily Potter’s existence that remained on this earth was not going to be harmed under his watch. 

He walked away, leaving Circe to cast her patronus and send a message. It was difficult for her to conjure up a happy memory in the midst of all the peril around her. Plus, patronus charms had never been her speciality. She breathed in deep and mentally scanned back through a hundred and one different childhood memories. All of which seemed distant and lacking in that happy wholeness needed for the charm to work… until her thoughts settled on last Christmas. The snow, the brandy, playing chess with Ron and Harry, Minerva’s brooch, Auld Lang Syne with Severus… She let the memory fill her until it seemed that her whole body was coursing with warmth. 

“Expecto Patronum!” she cast, and shooting from the end of her wand came a fully formed arctic wolf. The wolf rounded back to her and waited expectantly. “Minerva,” she told it. “Help needed ASAP. Potter, Weasley and Granger are in the Stone’s ante-chamber. Tell Dumbledore that he’s needed here immediately. The Stone is in danger and Harry is too.” The wolf bounded up, disappearing through the roof of the room and away to its purpose. 

Severus strode up to the last door and grabbed the metal handle, drawing instantly back as he felt his skin burning. 

“Ah!” he cried out, cradling his scalded hand. His temper flared and he began beating the door furiously. Circe rushed over to his aid. 

“Severus, what is it?”

“Hot, fire, something on the other side of that door that’s making the handle burn to the touch! And it’s been charmed, no one can get in.” 

Circe’s face formed into a frown of deep concern. “Harry! HARRY!” she called out, pounding on the door like Severus had. Behind them, Hermione began to cry once more. “Severus, what do we do?” she asked desperately. 

He pulled out his wand and tried a myriad of unlocking spells, all to no avail. “Shit.” 

“Who was responsible for the final chamber of protection?” she asked. 

“Dumbledore.” 

“Professors…” responded the cool elderly voice, almost on cue. They both turned in unison to see the Headmaster standing at their backs. 

“Dumbledore, thank God!” Circe sighed. 

“How did you arrive here so quickly?” Hermione asked, aghast.

“I realised pretty much as soon as I reached the Ministry in London that I was needed much more desperately here than I was there. I think your patronus passed me just as I was giving Fluffy a good old scratch behind the ears, Professor Smith.” 

“Potter’s inside with Quirrell.” Severus said, his voice tainted with the slightest tinge of alarm. 

“Stand out the way, Professors.” he said calmly. He removed his wand and silently cast a spell. Without fear of scalding, he extended his own hand and opened the door handle with ease. A burst of hungry flames leapt forwards, and Circe gasped, recoiling as she felt the intense heat on her face. Dumbledore did not move, casting another swooping spell with his wand and the flames died down before him. All three of the Professors rushed forwards into the final chamber. 

  
  


What they found were the crumpled, dusty remains of Quirrell’s body, next to an unconscious Harry, sprawled on the floor. 

“Oh my God…” Circe breathed, taking in the heap of purple silk on the floor. “What happened?” 

Dumbledore swooped forwards, taking Harry into his arms and picking him up with the strength of a young man. Circe rushed forwards to help, but stopped dead in her tracks when she spotted herself in the huge mirror at the end of the room. There was someone else in the mirror’s reflection who was not in the room in which she stood. Standing with her was a woman she recognised from many a distant dream or memory... The commotion around her seemed to fade into the distance as she stepped past the crumpled remains of Quirrell, even the arrival of Mcgonagall and the hubbub around Harry going unnoticed by her. She walked up to the mirror’s face and stretched out a furtive hand to the glass. 

“Mum.” she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks. 

Once Harry and the other children had been ushered away to safety, Severus let out a sigh of relief. He looked around the chamber and saw Circe in enraptured inspection of the mirror. As he approached her, his blood went cold as the lone figure of Lily materialised for him in the mirror’s reflection, just behind Circe. He turned away sharply, his heart threatening to break from his body. He choked down a sob and closed his eyes. 

“Circe... “ he said shakily. “Come away from it.” 

“What is this thing?” she asked, her voice thick with tears. 

“It’s the Mirror of Erised. It’s… it's not real, Circe.” 

“My mum… I couldn’t remember what she looked like before…Severus, look, it’s like she’s here next to me.” 

“I.. I won’t see her. It shows everybody something different. What they want the most in their heart of hearts.” 

Circe sobbed and caressed the glass where her mother’s face was reflected. Although she bore the lines of age and a more striking nose than Circe, she had the same bronze curls and emerald eyes as her daughter.  _ My God, no wonder Dad couldn’t stand the sight of me _ . 

She turned from the reflection and saw Severus with his back to her. 

“What do you see…?” she asked slowly. 

He did not respond, or even turn to look at her. Only shaking his head slowly. Circe sniffled and fought with everything inside her not to turn back around to the Mirror’s surface and steal one last look at the previously forgotten face of her mother. Whatever she was seeing, she concluded, it was clear that Severus suffered just as much from his manifestation as she did. Perhaps even more so. She walked slowly to his side and took his arm gently. As much as she hurt within, she latched on to Severus’s own pain and ignored her own suffering to tend to his. 

“Come on.” she said gently. “Lets go.” 

* * *

“Professors, I hope I do not have to reiterate to you the seriousness of what occurred on the Third floor last week.” Dumbledore said sagely, peering over his spectacles at Circe and Severus. 

The both stood, arms behind their backs in front of the Headmaster’s desk. Circe felt rather like a schoolgirl receiving a telling-off. They had been summoned to the office earlier that day, once the initial commotion and shock had worn off from Potter’s exploits. The whole school had breathed a collective sigh of relief as Harry had recovered fully and rejoined his friends in Gryffindor tower with a confident and triumphant smirk on his face. But that had meant that the questions had then been turned to her and Severus. It didn’t look good, and she planned to be totally upfront and honest with Dumbledore. Even if it cost Circe her role. She held her head low, trying to look repentant, whilst Severus met the Headmaster's gaze head on. 

“Now would you mind telling me what you were doing there?” Dumbledore asked. “And how you knew Quirrell would be there too? I would have thought you would have come straight to me if you suspected the Professor of any wrongdoing.” 

Circe sighed, mentally preparing herself for a dismissal. She felt her home at Hogwarts slipping away through her fingers. 

“Well you see, Headmaster-“

“I asked Professor Smith to accompany me into the corridor that night.” Severus cut in. 

“Professor Snape?” Dumbledore replied, inviting him to continue. Circe cast him a sideways glance, not daring to breathe a word. 

“We had no clue of Quirrell’s presence that night. I heard the students out of bed and noseying about in the corridor and I thought it prudent to take another staff member with me to retrieve them.” 

Circe shut her open mouth, trying not to display her surprise at the ease with which Severus lied. Her moral compass, however, abandoned her in that moment and she decided to go along with whatever Severus said. 

“Ahh, I see.” Dumbledore mused. “I was rather worried that there had been a breach of trust amongst our staff here, you see.” 

“As well as a security breech thanks to the oversight of Quirrell’s true loyalties, Headmaster?” Severus replied, raising a brow. Circe gasped, shocked at his audacity. 

“Indeed, Severus.” Dumbledore replied, ignoring Snape’s dig. “I dread to think what may have happened if Harry had not been able to fend him off for himself… and of course what may have occurred if yourself and Professor Smith were not  _ randomly  _ patrolling the corridors in that  _ exact _ place at that  _ exact _ time of night.” 

Circe’s eyes widened and she scrunched her lips together. 

_ What the hell does Severus have on Dumbledore? He knows and he’s choosing not to discipline either of us.  _ She thought cynically to herself.  _ I bet I’d be out on my ass if it had been just me acting alone _ . 

“Now that Nicholas has agreed to destroy the Stone, our guardianship of it has come to an end. But I’m afraid the events of last week raise more questions than it solves…” Dumbledore lamented.

“Professor…” Circe asked, finding her courage. “Why did Quirrell want the Stone?”

Severus eyed the Headmaster, his face set in a mask of seriousness. Circe saw Dumbledore cast a similar look back to the Potions Master and look away quickly. 

“The promise of eternal life is an irresistible draw for many people, Professor Smith.” 

Circe frowned, her dissatisfaction with his answer obvious. 

Severus and Circe descended the steps to Dumbledore’s office solemnly. Circe felt that she had narrowly avoided being made redundant. She felt a dizzying sensation of triumph, like she’d gotten away with sneaking another cupcake out of the fridge at midnight. Severus, as always, seemed unphased. The end of year ceremony awaited them, but Circe was in no mood for a feast. Although she felt happy to still have a job at Hogwarts, she also somehow felt unsettled and hollow.  _ More questions than answers indeed… _

_ “ _ I have requested that should your timetable be lacking next year, I would concede to have you continue to offer your help in the Potions department.” Snape said finally. 

Circe looked at him. His face betrayed nothing and he avoided looking at her. Her belly flooded with butterflies.

“Goodness, Severus, don’t sound too enthusiastic.” She teased. Snape fiddled with a finger on his left hand awkwardly, unsure of how to reply. “But thank you.” 

“Are you… going back to Edinburgh for the summer?” He asked.

“There’s nowhere for me to go there. I gave up my flat when I came here. No, Dad and Jane are clearing out their spare room for me.” 

“Ah.” 

“It should only be for a month or so.” She continued. “But no one would rent a place to me for that short a time. Minerva’s right, this job is really a bachelor's game.” She sighed to herself, watching a group of Hifflepuffs hurrying excitedly to the Great Hall. “And you? Back to Spinny End?” 

“Spinner’s End.” He corrected. “Yes.” 

“Oh. Well…” she paused, stopping in her tracks, forcing Severus to turn to look at her. “Don’t be a stranger over the summer, Severus. Do write to me… if you want.” 

Severus again felt the wriggling sensation in his guts and he nodded. There she went again, being relentlessly kind. 

“Oh that reminds me…” she added, delving into her pocket. “I thought it was curtains for me here so I got you something to say thank you, just in case I was asked to leave.”

“I would not have allowed that.” He said firmly. Her heart swelled and for a second she lost all sense of cohesion in his fiercely set black eyes. 

“Still, if it had come to that… here.” She extended a small, thin, plastic looking box out to him. He took it reluctantly from her, unsure of exactly what it was. He turned it over in his hands, peering at it from down his nose. “It’s a CD, Severus.” Circe offered when she saw his visible confusion. 

“Oh those muggle things that you like.” 

“Music, yes.” She smiled warmly, the brightness in her eyes touching his soul. 

“The Beatles 1962-1966.” 

She laughed. “A little reminder of our adventure, and a small attempt to give you some cultural education.” 

“Mmmm.” He grumbled. “Well… thank you, Professor.” 

* * *

Circe and Hagrid stood on the Platform at Hogsmeade waving the train off. Her belongings were stored nice and safely in her VW Beetle and after a few false starts, she’d been surprised that the car’s engine had rolled over after a whole year parked up. She bade goodbye to her giant friend and to Minerva, who was off to catch her own train to her Nephew’s for the summer.

Circe couldn’t quite believe it had almost been a whole year since she’d arrived there. She sat in the driver’s seat and cast her eyes for a final time up at the Castle. A long drive awaited her to her Dad’s house and she looked back to Ziggy, in his cage by her side. 

“You ready for some more singing, buddy?” She asked the bird. His blinked his wide orange eyes at her and hooted happily. Circe searched in her glove compartment and scrabbled around for a CD to place in the player. She of course, like any self respecting music officionado, had the same CD she had gifted Severus earlier. Her hand found the box and she stared down at the red cover and the faces of the four young men on the cover. She popped open the case and slid the CD in. 

Severus, still up in the Castle, busied himself with his own packing for the summer holidays. He silently seethed at Dumbledore’s earlier decision to overturn Slytherin as the House winners for the year. He’d been quite frankly ridiculous to outright  _ reward  _ Potter for his exploits on the third floor.  _ Bloody old fool, _ he thought bitterly. A knock on his door dragged him from his speculative scolding. He wondered who it might be; there was no one left in the castle now as all the students had left on the Hogwarts Express and most of the staff had gone too. He half expected it to be Circe as he pulled open the door. 

“Professor.” Filch said as Severus opened the door to him. 

Severus noted that he felt a little disappointed. “Yes?” He asked the greasy, leathery caretaker. 

“This was on the floor outside your rooms.” He said, holding something out to Snape. “I think someone left it for you before they departed.” 

He took it wordlessly from Filch and slammed the door in his face. 

Snape looked at the odd disc shaped thing in his hands. A thin wire emerged from one end of the contraption that split into two buds. Luckily, a small note had been taped to the top of the strange thing. 

“ _ Realised that you probably don’t have anything to play your present on! Press the lid down and put the CD in the top. Then put the earbuds in your ears. _

_ Track 3.  _

_ First verse.  _

_ See you in September. _

_ C  _

_ X “  _

He rifled through the items on his desk, looking for Circe’s present, and dutifully followed her instructions. He pressed the lid of the Walkman down and the disk began to spin inside it. Holding the earbuds to his head, he tentatively presses a few buttons until he thought he’d got track three. 

Little did either of them know that they were both listening to the same thing almost at the same moment. Circe began to sing along to The Fab Four as she pulled out of the village, Hogwarts in her rear view mirror. 

And Severus too smiled softly to himself as he listened to his message from her…


	10. "Maybe it's for the better we both stay strangers forever."

“Minerva!” Circe squealed from across the Hogwarts courtyard. 

“Circe!” Minerva called back, dropping her suitcase and running to her. They pushed through the other staff members gathered in the open space who were also exchanging their welcomes and greetings after a long and leisurely summer. The two ladies embraced and laughed as good friends do. “How are you, my girl?” she purred.

“Desperate to be back here.” Circe responded, rolling her eyes. “Dad’s spare room is fine, but not a patch on our little conservatory.” 

“Ohh, I understand that!” Minerva said with a chuckle. “I’m becoming rather too old a woman to be sleeping on a pull-out sofa.” 

“And how are your nephews?”

“Popping out more sprogs each time I make it back to Caithness, it seems!” she responded heartily. Circe smiled back at her. 

Summer with her Dad and his adopted family had been uneventful and not too hard to bear. Jane and her boys were pleasant enough. She wasn’t sure just how much about Circe’s job and abilities that her Dad had told Jane, but she had caught her step-mother and her young sons eyeing her up with a wary, suspicious look when they thought she couldn’t see them. Tom, the youngest of her step-brothers at just six years old, was the easiest to wind up and she loved making his cereal spoon disappear and reappear in his pocket. It had become a little breakfast routine of theirs, and Tom was not happy until Circe had given him her little mystical wink as he pulled various bits of cutlery from his jeans. Alec, the older of the two at ten years old, had been caught a few times with his grubby paws on her old antique books. She didn’t necessarily mind his curiosity, but before Circe had been given the chance to tell him to at least be careful with the delicate paper, Jane had slammed the books shut and ushered him quickly away. 

Her Dad had never been one for confrontation, so the sideways glances and passive-aggressive tidying away of Circe’s books had gone on all through August. The only time he ever really displayed his uncomfortableness at having a magical presence back in his life was whenever Ziggy came back to Circe’s window with a parcel or letter. Myron Wagtail had been tenacious in his pursual of her when he realised she was back home for the summer. He’d written to her several times demanding she pay-up on her part of the deal she had struck with him last year… He was, of course, after her musical prowess.Talks of getting the band back together had been in circulation ever since she’d asked Myron for a discount at Broomstix and Circe begrudgingly had to hold to her promise. They’d started off small with a few pub gigs and gradually had amassed something resembling a tiny following by the summer’s end. She’d gone back to Hogwarts promising Myron that they’d keep the momentum going in some of the spare weekends she had. But every time Ziggy dropped off a note for her with the details of their next rehearsal date, or the next backwater bar Myron had booked them for, she always felt a tiny pang of disappointment that the notes were not coming from who she really  _ craved  _ to hear from... 

Nothing from Severus had arrived for her all summer. She tried to fool herself that she didn’t really care, but each time her fluttering heart betrayed her as she eagerly tore open a note or letter, only to have that flutter replaced by a heaviness as she realised it wasn’t from him. Eventually her hopeful expectancy had turned to resentment, and by the time she stood in the Hogwarts courtyard with Minerva for the staff training day, she had downright decided to loathe Snape for his hurtful radio silence. Still, she couldn’t help but scan the faces of those around her in search of a smudge of black hair amongst them. 

**“** Severus not here then?” she asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. 

“Oh he’ll be sulking around in the shadows somewhere.” Minerva replied. She eyed Circe’s reaction acutely, the very slight pang of disappointment in her eyes not going unnoticed. 

“This is going to be a very different year for you and he.” she said with a knowing raise of the eyebrow. 

“Wh... what do you mean?” 

“Have you seen your timetable yet? Dumbledore leaves them all in the Staff Room for us non-new faculty.” 

Minerva took Circe by the arm and led her to the Staff Room. There was quite the gathering of Professors already there, who all seemed to be concentrated around one particularly flamboyant blue armchair by the fire. It may even have been the exact same chair Severus had been hiding in when she first came to Hogwarts a year ago.There was a low hubbub of excitement around this place as staff scrabbled to steal a look and be close to whoever sat there. 

“What’s all this?” Circe asked with peaked curiosity. 

“Oh you haven’t heard?” Minerva asked, turning to her. “The new Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher. It was published in the Daily Prophet over the summer.” 

“Um no, I think Dad started throwing my deliveries in the bin after a while. He says his eyes hurt when he looks at the pictures…” 

“Oh, well it was quite the story. We’ve already become inundated with requests for signatures and signed book copies for-” 

The crowd parted in that moment and lazing with a casual leg over the arm of the chair, doing his best to look dashing and debonair, was Gilderoy Lockhart. 

“Oh good God…” Circe breathed, recognising her fellow Ravenclaw from their school days. 

Gilderoy’s eyes narrowed as he saw Circe eyeing him up. He rose from the chair and strode over to her, extending a gloved hand. 

“Lockhart. Gilderoy Lockhart.” He smiled brightly, displaying a row of perfectly symmetrical white teeth, running the other hand through his golden locks. “I’m sorry, but do I know you, Madame?” 

“Um , yeah… We were both in Ravenclaw together.”

“We were?!” he asked, a little too loud for Circe’s comfort. “Oh I’m terribly sorry, what was your name?” 

“Circe...Circe Smith.” 

“Good lord, I remember! What an attractive little thing you grew up to be...” he added with a sickly wink. Circe felt herself tense up at the comment. Gilderoy had been a prat when he had been in Sixth Form and she in the younger years, and he was a prat now too it seemed. She cleared her throat awkwardly as Mcgonagall pursed her lips together in disapproval. 

“Well, if you’ll excuse me Gilderoy, I need to find my timetable.” she replied diplomatically. She turned her back on him, and standing against the coffee machine, watching her and Gilderoy’s conversation from over the rim of his mug... was Severus. Her heart leapt into her mouth and she gasped ever so quietly. Severus too seemed halted in whatever he had been up to before. His mug remained paused over his mouth and Circe may have mistaken him for another chair or piece of furniture as he stood so still. Her initial surprise at seeing him again after the long break eventually mentled away as she remembered she was supposed to be angry with him. She walked up casually to the huge brass espresso machine and tried to not give him another of her glances as she poured herself a drink. Snape, on the other hand, watched her every move intently. 

“Professor. “ he nodded to her, acknowledging her presence. 

“Professor.” she replied, just as curtly as he.  _ Jesus, it’s like we never even spoke to each other last year. Perpetual strangers forever...  _ She thought to herself. 

She turned to a pile of papers that had been placed on the countertop near the espresso machine. Above them was a sign that read “Timetables” in Dumbledore’s distinctive curling script. She thumbed through the papers, looking for hers and frowned slightly as she reached the end without having found her name. A paper fluttered at her, and she looked up to see Severus holding it out towards her. 

_ What’s he doing checking my timetable?  _ She wondered, taking it from him. 

“Well? How many classes do we share this year?” 

“None.” 

She broke her own rule and looked at him in surprise. “What?” She looked at the paper, scanning over the rooms and classes that had been drawn out for her in dark ink. He was right. All of her classes were for Ancient Studies. Something that she’d have killed for this time last year, but now it filled her with a sour, hollow taste of betrayal. 

“You didn’t tell me that uptake for you had become so popular.” Severus said levelly. 

_ Well perhaps I would have let you know if you’d bothered to write to me all summer.  _ She raged in her head back at him. 

“Of course her subject is popular!” Gilderoy slid into their conversation, wrapping an arm around Circe’s shoulders. “Can you blame the kiddies for choosing Ancient Studies when they have  _ this _ to look at?” He smirked, gesturing to Circe. 

She wriggled out of his grip. Her anger bubbled away in her guts at her teaching efforts being reduced to just eye-candy for horny teenagers.

“Mmm no doubt DADA would be just as popular with you at it’s front… if it weren’t a core subject of course.” 

“Oh Severus, you flatter me.” He laughed casually. 

Gilderoy’s presence made her feel a tad nauseous. He wore way too much cologne and it filled her nostrils until she couldn’t smell anything else. As if he demanded your attention just through the dominating odour alone. She’d noticed the complete collection of Gilderoy’s works on the kit list for students that year, but had attributed that to their insanely popular status amongst the wizarding community. She’d picked up ‘Magical Me’, of course, and scanned through it, giving up after realising it was full of anachronisms and wildly out of character claims for Lockhart. Anybody who knew Gilderoy knew that he was first and foremost a social climber, not an adventurer or brave soul. He had been a couple of years ahead of her when they were both at Hogwarts, and even then he had the swagger of someone who thought they  _ should  _ have praise showered upon them even when they’ve done nothing to deserve it. 

_ God, I can’t believe this prick was my first kiss… _

She made a hasty retreat from the two men, choosing a seat at the other end of the staff room to settle into. Gilderoy, sensing that he was going to get no more praise from Snape, slid back to his crowd of adoring fans by his fireside seat. Severus watched Circe busy herself with the logistics of her timetable, scanning it avidly for mistakes or a lesson with Severus that she may have overlooked. He too felt miserable at the outcome, but hadn’t quite had the courage to admit this to himself yet. He tried telling himself that he would have his long prized solitude back after the tumultuous year he’d last had. Yet he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he’d lost a companion or a confidant. His coffee sat uneasily in his stomach as he watched Circe running her hand through her curls, teasing them apart as she often did. His miserable memory had made a long summer seem even longer and more depressing than it needed to be and he had to concede that his heart felt a little lighter at seeing her again. Still, he had probably squandered what little familiarity they had painstakingly built between them, and realising this, his short lived happiness died in his chest.  _ Maybe it’s for the better that we don’t get too close... _ He touched a hand to the black leather satchel at his side. It somehow now felt heavier than it had been before she’d walked in the room. Tugging at his shoulder and burning into his hip; almost full with a wide selection of letters he had started to her...but never posted. 

* * *

Severus stood stock still in his storage room, staring at the selection of neatly prepared ingredients laid out on the desk. Lacewings neatly separated from the fly body, marigolds steeped in vinegar in precisely measured vials, willow bark ground to a fine dust ready to be decanted into the stacked dishes on the side. It was all of his prep work for the next week. Done for him. 

Until then he had suspected someone was messing around in the supply stores. Ingredients that he needed for a practical would magically appear at the front of the shelves. Things that needed tidying and organising would be neatly stored and displayed by the next morning. Even a few assignments had turned up marked and on his desk. He may have suspected the House Elves of tampering, if it hadn’t been a completely new phenomenon. There was only one other explanation he could think of. Someone who knew the storage cupboard and preparation delicacies well enough to not be instantly noticed. Someone who knew he would have work coming out of his ears most of the time. Someone who wanted to help lighten his load: it could only be Circe. 

_ She’s… she’s still helping with the preparations even though she doesn’t work with me anymore…  _ Severus thought to himself, a lump rising in his throat.  _ Even though I gave her no word all summer.  _ He was genuinely touched. More than that, he was a little embarrassed. He would probably have had Potter and Weasley doing the same tasks for their detention with him after the Whomping Willow incident. Yet, Circe must be busy with her own tasks and duties now her own timetable was full. It was well into the term and he’d seen her only briefly in staff meetings and meal times. He’d kept his distance, and she’d kept hers. A part of him missed their moments together in the dungeons, gossiping, tidying, sharing the various burdens of teaching. He tried telling himself that he had his solitude back, but it was a hollow comfort, and now it felt even lonelier that it ever had been before. He’d grown accustomed to her face, her chat, her being. Now, knowing that she’d been here, her presence undoubtedly stamped on his storeroom, he felt an unignorable sense of absence. He  _ missed  _ her. Severus felt a stab of insane jealousy whenever he heard talk of her lessons from students, no doubt filling her days with her own never-finished workload. Yet she still found the time to do the lion’s share of his work too. He felt like an ungrateful, undeserving wretch. 

It was still early enough on Monday morning to catch her before lessons started. He felt oddly riled by her help, like she knew instinctively that he wanted it even without having to ask for it. That meant she could preempt his thoughts and feelings, and Snape didn’t like that. During the wizarding war he’d made a career out of being unreadable. He grabbed his satchel and stuffed the lacewings and willow bark into it unceremoniously. The steeped marigold was less easy to carry all the way up to her classroom so he begrudgingly left it where it stood. He felt comfortable in his anger. Anger was safer than… whatever he’d been feeling before. It was easier to be angry at her than to miss her…

Severus burst through Circe’s classroom door with a thunderous expression on his face .She looked up sharply from her desk, caught in the middle of book marking. She’d made the room her own, no doubt. It was full of posters and dioramas of various aspects of Ancient Studies. Books and reams of old parchment scrolls were on almost every surface, and dotted about the room were a series of old artefacts: polished rune stones of jade and amber bejewelled the tables, sturdy inscribed stone tablets thick with hieroglyphs propped up against the walls. And the crowning feature: at her back, behind her desk, was a life sized replica of the ancient Mayan calendar. It framed her, making it almost look like she sat at a huge mezzo-American throne. A miniature set of bronze scales sat on one side of her desk weighing a small white feather and a small model of a heart. It was presided over by a small statue of Thoth, leaving Sevreus in no doubt that it was a small reminder of her protection of the Philosopher’s Stone last year. It was a small detail in the classroom, but the memory of the last riddle in particular came screaming back into his head. 

_ “The rich men want it, the wise men know it, the poor all need it, the kind men show it.” _

Snape almost halted in his tracks as the white-hot memory burst intrusively into his brain. 

“Severus..” she said, not quite able to hide her surprise at his seemingly out of the blue visit. “What brings you to my cave?” 

Severus recovered his composure quickly, determined not to give her another inch of familiarity. He threw his bag onto her desk with a thud, the willow bark powder pluming upwards with the impact. 

“What’s this?” he demanded coldly. 

Circe stuttered and looked away from his withering gaze. “I-I thought you’d-” 

“Professor, you do not work for the Potions Department anymore.” he interrupted. Circe flinched, almost as if she had been struck by him. 

“I know, Severus…” she breathed, her eyes searching his hard features, imploring him for kindness. “It’s just… I know how thinly you’ve been stretched before and I’ve had a spare moment here and there -” 

“Dumbledore has determined that your help is not required.” 

“And what about you?” she stood up from her desk sharply. “What do you  _ determine _ ? Or are you really too proud to accept a gesture of support when you need it?” 

“I do not need your help.” he sneered at her, leaning in close. His hands rested on her desk as if he were about to pounce on her . “I was perfectly capable and able to fulfil the requirements of my job before you came along.” 

“You know, most people would say ‘thank you’, Professor.” she replied, her eyes clouding over with angry tears. 

He recoiled back from her, seeing the beading water in her eyes. The reality of just how upset he’d made her suddenly hitting home. His anger melted away and for a brief moment of clarity, he saw just how unreasonable he was being. He’d stormed up to her first floor classroom with a mind to belittle her or berate her: saying most of the lacewings were cracked or damaged, or the willow bark powder had been milled too finely, ready to claim she’d wasted precious ingredients. Tiny, little things that he could have done better but were, in reality, inconsequential.. A voice in his head whispered into his ear:  _ Or did you just want an excuse to see her, old man?  _ She sniffed and hastily wiped her eyes, refusing to look at him. 

“You… you could have asked me how to prepare it…” he mumbled, almost too quiet for Circe to hear him. 

“Oh Severus, you’re going to have to do better than that.” Circe said rather curtly. “Come back when you’re ready to apologise properly.” She turned around and pretended to shuffle her books and parchments on a nearby shelf. In reality, she was hiding a rogue tear that had escaped down her cheek.

For a second he was speechless. His initial reaction was to shout at her for her insolence. The mere nerve of her to claim he should apologise. But deep down, he knew she was right, of course. His embarrassment threatened to swallow him whole and he felt his guts tie into knots. Yet, in that moment, if his life had depended on it, he could not have summoned the words of an apology for her. He turned on his heels, feeling the blood rush to his face, and fled from the classroom in shame. Back to the haven of his dungeon. Back to a place away from her. 

Circe sank despondently into her chair, burying her head in her hands. She sniffled and tried in vain to blink away her tears of hurt. She tried to distract herself with what she had been doing before Severus had come waltzing into her classroom and picked up a half marked essay. A thin layer of willow bark dust fell off it and she sighed heavily. Her whole desk was covered in it. She reached for the satchel bag that Severus had left and threw off the cover. Another plume of dust erupted from within it, making Circe cough. She took out the willow bark and threw it into the small bin at her side. Her heart sank at seeing her hours of work renagued to the trash. Still, she swallowed down her sadness and hardened her heart to it. Rifling through the interior, she bunched up small handfuls of lacewings and tossed them into the bin too. However, after her third or fourth handful of wings, her hand brushed against a thick wad of papers at the bottom of the satchel. She pulled out the papers and her eyes widened as she saw that they were letters… one of which was addressed to her. She thumbed through the others and confirmed that they were  _ all  _ in fact addressed to her.. All thirty or so of them…

She picked the letter at the forefront and teased it open, her curiosity getting the better of her. The confirmation she needed came as she saw Severus’s small compact handwriting on the parchment. There was only a few sentences, all with a frustrated black line scribbled through each one, but a few were still easy to make out: 

_ “Dear Circe, Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day. I know you approve of when I show some culture…”  _

_ “Dear Circe, I bought another one of those muggle CD’s today of the same people that you gifted to me at the end of the year...” _

_ “Dear Circe, I noticed another bunch of flowers on my mother’s grave when I last went to visit. I think my father has been there …” _

Circe’s throat grew thick with emotion and the tears came back to her eyes in an instant. She re-folded the paper and picked another from the wad. 

_ “Dear Circe, I hope this letter finds you well and rested….” _

_ “Dear Circe, I have spent an inordinate amount of money on muggle CD’s now, all thanks to you…” _

_ “Dear Circe, I found myself thinking of you in a bookshop in Oxford. I saw the same book that I’d been perusing when you and I were in Edinburgh...”  _

_ “Dear Circe, Spinner’s End is cold and empty. Not like Hogwarts where there is always a misbehaving child or lakeside chat to keep me busy…” _

_ “Dear Circe, your owl’s name. I understand it now. Good song….” _

_ “Dear Circe, I wonder if I asked you to meet me, would you oblige? Or do you have better, more exciting things to do than I?...” _

Each letter was the same. All with a different starting sentence crossed through with angry splodges of black ink. 

“He wrote to me…” she whispered to the empty air around her. A sad smile pulled at her lips. 

“He wrote to me…”


	11. "When I was still quite naieve."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Every time a fanfic author writes a smut scene, an angel gets its wings. Now's that time, folks. You have been warned...

Circe rose offensively early that weekend, excitement bubbling away in her stomach. She pulled out her outfit from the very back of her wardrobe and held it up to her body. It was too small for her now. She sighed to herself, wondering if she had ever been that small… 

Minerva had outright bullied her into bringing her old Quidditch kit back to Hogwarts that year. Now she was a firm, established member of staff, it was time to fulfil the promise she’d made to her sporting rival. Today was her first proper training day with the Ravenclaw team. More so, it would be her first time properly in the air on a broom for almost ten years. She tied her hair up into a ponytail and left her glasses on her bedside table. She’d made the mistake of leaving her glasses on during a match only the once, and when a bludger hit her in the face she was lucky the bridge of her glasses hadn’t broken her nose. She was a beater, not a seeker. She only needed to see big objects… 

There once was a time when not wearing her glasses didn’t bother her so much. Now, she squinted and blinked for a few seconds, hoping her sight would adjust in time, but the room around her was a warped blurry mess.  _ That’s what reading in the dark does to your sight _ , she chided herself. Her eyesight had really gone noticeably downhill when she’d gone to University. Researching from faded manuscripts, reading late into the night, harsh blinking computer screens… it had all done its damage.  _ Perhaps I ought to get some contacts _ , she mused.  _ Or there’s probably some spell to fix bad eyes, surely. ‘Oculus Un-shito’ maybe... _

The cream jodhpurs were a little snug, but weren’t restricting her movement too much. She hoisted them up and gave an experimental wiggle, finding them stretchy and accommodating. Her blue Ravenclaw team jacket, however, barely fit her now she’d grown into a woman’s body. She sucked in and pulled the buttons under her breasts, desperately trying to do it up. The buttons slid together and she breathed out, thankful that it still  _ just  _ got around her. She looked into the mirror on her vanity table, smoothing a hand over her hips and fussing over the jacket one last time. Circe tutted, admitting to herself that no amount of repositioning or rearranging it was going to make it look as loose at it once had been. She gloved and booted herself and strode off to the Great Hall to grab a quick breakfast before practise began in earnest. 

She spied her young hopefuls in the Great Hall, also grabbing a quick bite to eat before their practise started. Ravenclaw was always unfairly overlooked when it came to Quidditch. They were often dismissed as the bookish, studious house. Not the house of sportsmen. But Circe challenged anyone who voiced that misconception to her to find a more dedicated, hard-working player than a Ravenclaw who’s got something to master. Ravenclaws practised hard until they were the best, not maybe in natural ability, but through relentlessly drilling and training until they were the top of their game.

The morning sun was beginning to bleed through the stained glass, casting beautiful shards of coloured light on the House tables’ surface. One of the boys on the Ravenclaw team nudged his playmate in the ribs as Circe made her entrance. They both made the face of someone who has seen a fish walk out of a pond. Circe checked herself as she acknowledged she may have looked the same if she’d ever seen one of her Professors out of their teaching attire.

“Ah come on, boys. I know I’m your Professor but it’s not too hard to imagine that I once had hobbies, is it?” Circe joked with them. 

The boy snorted, sending orange juice out of his nose. The Sixth Year captain handed her a hot cup of coffee with an enthusiastic smile. 

“No, Professor. It’s just… if you want, we can find you a bigger jacket from the second hand-“ 

“I took the Ravenclaw Quidditch team to victory during the summer of ‘81 in this jacket, Inglebee.” She responded, pulling on the collar. “It’s rather sentimental to me.” Circe sat with her team, helping herself to a bacon roll and taking an animated bite out of it. “Mmmm, reminds me of the taste of Hufflepuff flesh!” She growled, eliciting a laugh from some of the young Second Year chasers. She leaned in close to the Captain, “And I’ll try and get it adjusted by next week.” She whispered to him. 

She wolfed down her roll, followed by a crisp green apple, feeling sufficiently energised for the practise session ahead. One more drag on her coffee and she was practically buzzing. She banged her fist down on the table, almost making the kids jump out of their skin in shock.

“Right Ravenclaw!” She shouted. ”Let’s go chase some clouds!” 

* * *

Severus was on Library duty that weekend. It was certainly the short straw to draw as a staff member; to be finding yourself sitting in the room of books, monitoring the high shelves and convenient hiding places for snogging students on a Saturday morning. 

He cast a weary eye over the gathering children meeting to work on homework or gossip, filling the work benches as the morning progressed. They had the good sense to leave him alone to his pile of unmarked papers. For a few quiet hours, he lost himself in his work, the gentle sound of chatter and idle talk in the background lulling him into a working stride.

“P-Professor Snape, sir…” 

Snape looked up from his marking, ready to bite off the kid’s head for the interruption. The intensity of his look almost made the little First Year cry. “You are required on the Quidditch pitch, sir.” 

“Why..?” He asked slowly, venom dripping from his voice. 

“Tu-Th” he stuttered 

“Speak up, boy!” He snapped. 

“There’s a problem with the Ravenclaw team, sir…” he stuttered. 

He said nothing: knowing exactly who would be behind this ‘problem’. He groaned, already feeling his irritation levels rising. Wordlessly he slid out from under his desk and marched to the grounds of the castle, leaving the poor First Year a little teary from their interaction. 

As he reached the Quidditch grounds, he could see the azure blue of the Ravenclaw team’s uniform practising quaffle passes in the skies above. On the floor of the pitch he heard raised, angry voices and continued his sweeping march towards the gathered crowd. Duncan Inglebee, Sixth Year, Captain of the Ravenclaw team was facing off against the Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint. Both were backed by several members of their teams joining together in the cacophony of insult-hurling. 

“What is the meaning of this rumpus?!” Snape bellowed at them. 

Flint turned around to face him, “Professor, we need to train for our match. I booked the pitch with Madam Hooch yesterday!” 

“Bollocks!” Inglebee chimed in. Snape gave him his death stare and he withered slightly. 

“Inglebee!” a familiar voice called from up in the sky and as Snape raised his eyes he saw Professor Smith descending on her broom, covered almost head to toe with mud. He noted that she too was dressed in a Ravenclaw quidditch kit, a keepsake from her own Hogwarts days she was now glad she hadn’t thrown out. 

“Is there a problem, boys? Professor?” she asked, panting slightly from her physical exercises. Her hair was wild and her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. 

Snape’s arousal completely blindsided him, hitting him like a freight train. His heart seemed to stop and something stirred beneath his trousers...

Luckily Flint chipped in before Snape had a chance to betray himself. “I booked this practise time with Madam Hooch.” 

“Oh I’m afraid that’s not possible, Marcus. I’ve had the Ravenclaw team’s training programme booked up since September. We’ve been here since seven o’clock this morning, as you can probably tell.” She smiled and pulled at her cream, skin tight jodhpurs, indicating at the mud smeared all over them. Snape’s crotch twinged.

“No! I booked this day!” Flint said through clenched teeth. 

“Mind your manners, Captain.” Snape finally managed to say. “Did you see Madam Hooch? Speak to her?” 

_ Am I sweating? I feel like I’m sweating…  _ Snape thought, neurotically balling his damp palms into fists and releasing them.

“Yes… Well, no. Montague did.” The boy gestured to another Slytherin Chaser behind him. Graham Montague stepped forward. 

“Well?” Snape asked expectantly.

“Well.. yeah I went to Madam Hooch’s office…” 

“And you saw her?” 

“Uh, no… She wasn’t there. I left a note on her desk for the date and time Marcus wanted. I thought that would be fine…”

The whole of the Slytherin team collectively groaned. 

“There you have it, Professor.” Circe said, shrugging her shoulders. “Rolanda obviously wasn’t there to tell Mr Montague that this time was already booked up so-” 

“Professor, can’t you do something?!” Flint butted in. “They’ve been here since seven, you heard them.” Snape realised he had been staring at her slightly too tight tunic, pinned just under her breasts. He started his nervous fist-balling tick again, feeling his trousers growing tight around his groin region. 

“I’m afraid Mr Montague that that’s neither here nor there. If you have not booked this slot then I’m afraid that you’ll have to re-address your training programme-” 

_ How dare she look this fucking stunning… And speak to my students like that…  _ His misplaced anger rose up inside him, and rather infuriatingly his vexation only seemed to make his erection stronger... 

“Professor, must you insist on being an insufferable gloater? Or must we harken to every tiny detail of your infantile plans and schemes?” he spat at her. 

The mouths of the Slytherin team dropped to the floor, a couple daring to laugh slightly, nudging their teammates in the ribs. 

Circe clenched her jaw, her anger bubbling just under the surface, and moved towards Severus. She paused, toe to toe with him, refusing to let him intimidate her. Squaring up to him like an Amazon warrior in front of an enemy. He looked down his nose into her mud-smeared face. An intrusive thought came screaming into his head that he would love to pull that matted hair of hers back and have her looking up at him like this from her knees….

“I would think very carefully, Professor…” she said through clenched teeth”... before you talk down to me in front of any students again.” The heat of her gaze was enough to make even him blanch. He felt another strong twinge in his cock.  _ God, what’s wrong with me?!  _

“Inglebee, take the team back to the pitch.” she added without breaking eye contact. There was absolute silence between both sets of student teams. Once the Ravenclaws had taken to the air on their brooms, she turned away. “Oh , and Professor …” she added, mounting her own broom, “If you had asked nicely I would have let you know that we will be finished with our training at one o'clock, and the afternoon session is yours. Perhaps if I receive a note of apology from the Head of Slytherin House for calling me.. what was it ‘infantile’ and ‘insufferable’...I shall compromise and let you have the pitch from twelve.” She finished with a cheeky smile. Rage flared up inside Severus as he clenched his fists by his side. 

“Oh, I don’t think I ever got the last apology either, Severus. You can chuck that in there too whilst you're at it.” She flew away without another word to join the Ravenclaw students in the air. 

Snape burst into his bedchamber, incandescent with rage.  _ An apology! An apology! The fucking nerve…!  _ He picked up a nearby empty potions flask and flung it against the opposite wall. 

_ And why won’t this fucking erection go away?!  _

He sat on the end of his bed pulling down his black slacks to his knees. His erect cock sprung up defiantly, throbbing away. His heart rate slowed as his breath reduced. Slowly his hand encircled the base. He tried to fight it, but the image of Circe’s thighs in those mud-covered jodhpurs seemed burned into his brain.  _ And how her ass looked when she mounted that broomstick...  _ He groaned.  _ Come on, Severus. How did you get rid of these when you were a teenager?  _ He thought. It felt so wrong, but he just couldn’t seem to help himself. His hand moved slowly up and down his shaft without him telling it to. His head became flooded with images of her… 

That blue jacket, pinned tightly under her breasts. In his head, she took it apart, her hands tracing over her top, inviting him to stroke her, touch her. No sooner had he considered it that it was there in his head. He imagined running his thumb over her thick bottom lip, almost able to feel the mud on her cheek, his other hand delving into her white quidditch tank top, feeling the warmth of her flesh and her heartbeat. Would she gasp and look at him with that same fire in her eyes she had had when squaring up to him if he squeezed her nipple? His stroking became faster…

In his head her top was off now, both of his hands fondling her breasts. Just her standing there in those tight cream jodhpurs, squirming at his touch. He remembered the thought he had earlier. He grabbed her hair. It was soft and thick in his fist. He yanked her head back looking in to those arresting green eyes of hers. His imagination took over as he pictured her hands roaming his body too, unfastening him and finding his hard cock. He wickedly pictured her sinking to her knees in submission and hungrily taking him into her mouth.

”Oh fuck..” Snape whispered to himself, alone in his room. 

His strokes became fevered and fast, and in his head it was her mouth. Sliding up and down his shaft with her perfect thick lips, teasing at him with her tongue, working at him with her hand. Again and again, over and over. She took him into her. He felt his orgasm building deep within the pit of his stomach. It grew and spiked and it lanced through the head of his cock, and he moaned heavily as his seed spilled out of him. 

He sat there for a moment, panting, still clutching himself. A heavy wave of shame washed over him as he leaned back on his bed and let the last remnant of the orgasm fade. 

_ Well, that was new…  _ he thought still very much in shock that he had masturbated to one of his colleagues after seeing her in a muddy quidditch kit…

Grabbing a nearby towel, he hastily wiped himself down and re-dressed. He looked at the clock on his wall. Eleven thirty.

_ Half an hour to write my apology note.  _ He thought dryly, scowling to himself as he ruffled through his desk for a spare square of parchment. 

* * *

Circe was doing her best to get on with her work as Gilderoy beguiled Harry and Ron with tall tales of his time in Hogwarts. The two were still serving their detention time for colliding bonnet-first into the Whomping Willow at the start of the year. It had been quite the juicy bit of gossip; Percy Weasley had informed her of just how livid Molly had been and the inquiry poor Arthur was facing for having ownership of an unregistered flying car. Still, Circe couldn’t help but admire their gall. She too may have commandeered the vehicle if she thought that she’d missed the only train to school. Still, they paid for it in a hearty few months worth of detentions. Nevertheless, a detention with Gilderoy was a punishment that she wouldn’t have willingly inflicted upon anyone…

She had been in charge of Weasley’s detentions for that evening and had put him to polishing and organising her extensive collection of medieval scrying mirrors. Not long into the evening, Gilderoy had passed her classroom with Harry in tow. He’d jumped on the opportunity to impose himself upon Circe and had settled himself into her room quite comfortably, claiming he would keep Circe company whilst he handed Harry photo after photo of his face to be posted back to a fan. Of course, he hadn’t noticed that Circe had stopped engaging in conversation with him a while ago as it was all just an excuse for him to talk about himself. Gilderoy talked  _ at  _ people, not with them. 

“I remember when I was a student here…” he said wistfully, as if he were performing a soliloquy. “I was once so bogged down with cards on Valentines Day, that the Great Hall had to be siphoned off after breakfast to sort through them all. The poor owls must have delivered about eight hundred or so.” 

“Mmm, pity they were all in your own handwriting, Professor Lockhart.” Circe mumbled under her breath, just loud enough for Ron to hear her. He laughed and covered his mouth with his polishing cloth. 

“What was that Professor Smith?” 

“I said it’s a pity breakfast had to be abandoned. Too many feathers in the porridge, you see…” she lied quickly. 

The sun set behind the Scottish hills outside the classroom, and Gilderoy ploughed on with anecdote after anecdote, seemingly unbothered by the fading light. Circe yawned as she escaped from Lockhart’s inane prattle into a book.  _ Sorry boys, every man for himself  _ she thought to herself, feeling sorry for Ron and Harry that they could not be similarly distracted.  _ Perhaps that’s your real punishment in this detention… _

A stillness settled over the castle as afternoon gave way to the evening and students gradually left the halls and classrooms to gravitate back to the cozyness of their dormitories. Circe’s eyes began to itch with tiredness as words and symbols blurred together on the pages before her. Her teaching duties on top of her newfound role as Quidditch coach had rather zapped the energy from her. Her muscles ached from being on her feet all day. But it was a good ache; the ache of someone who was content in what they had managed to get done. For a brief moment she closed her eyes and let her head rest against the back of her chair. The soft candlelight pulled her into a doze, Gilderoy’s droning voice almost becoming a comforting background noise for her. Again, her half-waking mind was filled with the sandstone spires of a home long left behind, the sky whizzing with flying bludgers and quaffles. She walked through Edinburgh in her mind’s eye, down narrow cobbled streets and into an old bookshop. Inside the shop was a book-lover’s paradise: reams of old leather bound tomes, stacked to the very ceiling in a patchwork mosaic of coloured spines. She spotted a trail of black cloth tucked behind one of the shelves, a shining boot poking out from beneath. Never quite able to catch him, she chased the black-clad figure from high bookshelf corridor to bookshelf corridor. Disappearing around another corner before she could get close to them.  _ What are you looking for, Severus?  _ She called out. 

“Harry..? Harry??” a voice shook her out of her doze. She was pulled back into the land of the living, feeling like she had been dragged over glass. She opened her eyes to see Potter looking around the room in a daze, his autographs abandoned. Ron had been the one who had called to him, it seemed, as he wore a look of puzzled concern on his face.  _ He looks more confused than usual,  _ Circe thought to herself, blinking away the last remains of sleep from her eyes. 

“Harry, my boy, are you alright?” Gilderoy asked, shaken from one of his personal anecdotes. 

“That voice… can’t you hear it?” 

“Wh-what voice?” Ron responded, stuttering. 

“In- in the walls…” Harry moved from one corner of the classroom to another, following the movement of something only he could hear. 

“Oh goodness me, poor Harry is delusional with exhaustion.” Gilderoy laughed nervously. “And Good Lord, look at the time! It’s almost seven o’clock, we’ve been at this for three hours. Why don’t you boys get going back to your dormitories now, eh?”

Circe said nothing, watching the young black-haired boy’s eyes dart about the walls and up into the ceiling. Ron quickly gathered his things into his bag, grabbing Harry by the arm and dragging him out of the room. 

“Harry...what the bloody hell’s going on?” she heard Weasley whisper to him as they fled the classroom. 

“How odd.” Circe said to herself. She’d underestimated Potter and his friends before and therefore she was not as willing as Gilderoy was to sweep the whole affair under the rug. She tried to stand as still as she could, straining her ears trying to listen to the slightest hint of anything. Anything that might indicate to her what Potter had been hearing. Her eyes tracing the same areas that she had seen Harry’s flit to nervously...But that task was soon interrupted by Gilderoy, who was never a person who prized silence. 

“Poor child. Obviously has a severe case of attention-seeking. Especially after the status of celebrity that’s been around him since birth.” Gilderoy lamented. 

_ How ironic  _ Circe thought to herself, rolling her eyes. 

“Well, regardless of whether he seems to invite it or not, attention always seems to find Mister Potter. All for the wrong reasons too.” 

“Oh come now, you don’t really think that he was hearing something that none of us in the room could hear, do you? It was Peeves obviously playing a trick… or something. Now had that been me, I would have blasted a revealing charm into the walls to expose the horrible little poltergeist.” 

“I’m sure you would have, Gilderoy.” Circe busied herself with packing her things away, realising that any opinion not his was lost on Gilderoy. She had just about managed to sort the last of her essays away when Lockhart sat on the end of her desk, right on top of her satchel… 

“You know…” he began, leaning in close. “I remembered the other night why I recognised you from our school days.” There was a sickly tinge to his voice that turned Circe’s stomach over. Circe grabbed at her satchel strap and tried to pull the bag loose from him. He didn’t budge. 

“Oh yes…?” Circe replied rather shortly. 

“Charlotte Ambrose’s eighteenth birthday party...” he said slowly. 

Circe looked up at him wide eyed. Gilderoy smiled back at her, knowing that she too remembered the event he referred to. Circe cleared her throat awkwardly. 

“I uhhh I’m afraid I don’t really remeb-”

“Oh come now, yes you do! I see it in your eyes. No one ever forgets a kiss from Gilderoy Lockhart.” he added with a wicked grin. 

Circe felt sick. “Well.. as I recall, Gilderoy, you were quite a bit older than me at that party. So I maybe wouldn’t go spewing that to everyone.” 

“Pfft, paltry details. We were both teenagers.” 

Circe tugged hard on her bag, almost sending Gilderoy tumbling off the desk. Now free, she swung it hard over her shoulder and squared up to him. 

“You only kissed me because I was top of the league tables in the Duelling Club!” she hissed at him, her knuckles turning white as she gripped her satchel strap tight. 

“You liked it though didn’t you?” Gilderoy chuckled, raising a brow at her. 

“You only did it cause you thought you could get some second-hand kudos if you  _ had  _ me.”

“Gosh, you weren’t this upset about it at the time.” Gilderoy said, raising his palms defensively at her. The smug look on his face was crying out for a fist in the center of it. 

“I was  _ fourteen,  _ Gilderoy. I didn’t know any better! You on the other hand...” She grabbed her pile of books and clung them to her chest, as if she hoped they would give her comfort or a physical barrier from the bad memory. She didn’t want to look at him. She was quite frankly embarrassed at herself. Yes, she had liked it at the time. Gilderoy was older, confident, her Prefect. And she’d been young. The first time a boy had ever shown her attention in that way. After a few beers down in Hogsmeade, Gilderoy had pulled her behind the pub’s bins and planted one on her. All very romantic…

It had been Circe’s friends who had told her about how Gilderoy had been spouting about their snog as the party went on. Saying that it was  _ he  _ who’d been coaching her at wand-fighting, and  _ he  _ was the sole reason behind her skill on the duelling grounds. 

“She’s obsessed with me!” He’d said. “Can’t get enough of my wand technique. In between snogs, of course.” She vividly remembered the cruel, libidinous laughs that came from the group of older boys Gilderoy had attracted around him at the bar.

She finally fled from the pub once Gilderoy started making some rather crude comments and not so veiled innuendos about “wand fights” going on elsewhere with him and her… Of course, the lipstick smeared all over her face and the smug look on Gilderoy’s face only added fuel to the fire. No protest she made to contradict Gilderoy’s claims seemed to matter, and she wasn’t the last girl whom Gilderoy claimed to have done various “things” with whilst he was in school. Nevertheless, it was a rumour she’d never lived down, even after Gilderoy left Hogwarts and she’d remained at school. 

“Ahh come on, look at you now. A woman in the flower of her beauty.” Gilderoy stepped in front of her, stopping her from leaving her classroom. Her temper flared and her grip tightened around the wand in her pocket. _ I’ll put you on your bloody arse again, you bastard _ . she seethed at him.  _ You’re not too old for a jelly legs jinx.  _

“If you ever want to re-enact Charlotte Ambrose’s party now we’re both all grown up...” he purred “you know I’d be game.” He smiled widely at her. Giving his best Daily Prophet headshot pose.

She was about to blast him in the chest with a curse, taking her wand from her pocket, when a swift hand settled on her wrist. She wheeled round to where the hand had come from, ready to scream them down to let her go. Instead, she saw the placid, calm face of Severus. 

He stared intently at her, his eyes the only thing giving away the urgency within him. She shot back an equally intense look at him, imploring him to let her have her satisfaction. But his grip on her wrist was tight, the strength in his hold preventing her from raising her wand. Eventually she relinquished, letting her wrist go slack and her expression relax. 

“Professors…” Snape said in his signature drawl. His eyes passed from Circe to Gilderoy, who stood with a slightly frightened expression now etched upon his features. Circe took a small pleasure at watching Lockhart wither in Snape’s presence, but she turned from him and moved to stride from the room in a huff. Yet Snape called after her before she could leave, “There seems to be an incident in the corridor along the second floor.” She halted and reluctantly turned to face them again, her top lip curled in disdain. 

“An incident, Professor Snape?” Gilderoy asked. Circe did not reply, keeping her mouth closed tight like a cork in a bottle of anger. If she opened it, she feared she would never stop shouting. 

“Something rather interesting based on the noise I heard from two floors away.” Severus moved over to Circe’s side and cast her a sideways look. Something in his expression had now changed from a look of reprimand to one of care.  _ Are you alright?  _ His eyes seemed to say now. She swallowed hard as her eyes settled on Gilderoy’s shoes. She wrinkled her nose, as if smelling a bad odour. Snape picked up on her subtle clue and looked back to Gilderoy, raising an expectant brow at him. 

“Ah, I shall head up there and see what all the fuss is about then!” Gilderoy said, taking his cue to leave. He swept from the room in a flourish of rich blue silk and heady cologne, leaving Circe and Severus very much alone. 

“I… heard a little of what Gilderoy said.” Snape offered, hesitating as he saw just how firmly Circe clenched her jaw together. “I thought you may have wanted someone to step in and rescue you.” 

“Then you know why that bastard deserved what I was about to give to him.” she spat at him, beginning to pace the room. She threw her satchel down, furious that she had been denied her vindication. 

“Gilderoy would have complained about you and, in the right or not, you probably would have been dismissed for attacking another member of staff.” 

She roared and kicked a nearby shelf, sending a cascade of books and papers spewing onto the floor. Severus did not even flinch, although he marvelled at how angry she was. He’d never seen her this irate before. Actually, he couldn’t recall her being angry at all. 

“Was it really that bad of a kiss?” he ventured bravely. Circe turned to him sharply, a lance of anger spiking through her core. When she met Severus’s face, his mouth curled up in the slightest hint of a smile, she felt the tip of her anger disappear and her normal calmness begin to creep back into position. She laughed. Slowly at first. Then the hysterics took over her. 

When she’d managed to stop laughing, her eyes were blurred with tears and Snape looked at her as if she were a woman possessed. 

“Little fucking shit…” she breathed in between gasps, waving in the general direction Gilderoy had swanned out. “I can’t even escape Gilderoy fucking Lockhart in my adult life.” She placed her hands on her hips and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself down further. “Bloody hell, you’d think I would be over some prick from all the way back in school who took advantage of me, wouldn’t you.” 

“That’s the unfortunate fact about being hurt young.” Severus offered. “It’s the first time you’ve ever felt those feelings, so it all feels deeper… stronger… than any hurt that comes after.”

Circe stopped her pacing to look at him. Something about the distant look in his eyes made her falter. Again, her chest ached for him as the slightest hint of sadness crept into his expression.

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” 

They both heard the thunder of footsteps above them as feet pounded on the floor of the corridor above. They both cast their eyes skyward and frowned. 

“Jesus, what’s going on up there?” she asked. 

“Perhaps we should journey up there too. Give Professor Lockhart some assistance.” 

“I’d rather give assistance to a vampire sucking my mother’s blood.” she replied sarcastically.

He grumbled in agreement but still raised a brow at her and gestured his head to the door. Circe sighed and reluctantly moved to his request. 

* * *

Severus parted the ocean of students on the second floor as if he were Moses before the Red Sea. Circe followed in his wake, trailing close behind him before the students could move back into position. Tall as she was, she still struggled to see over the moving, bobbing heads to the source of the commotion. But something had got their hackles up. Circe saw the back of Dumbledore and Mcgonagall as she approached the center of the commotion, their eyes cast to the wall beside them. Circe followed the line of their sight and gasped…

Her hand flew to her mouth as she saw the limp, stiff body of Mrs Norris suspended from the lantern hook on the wall. The dark crimson letters of the message behind the cat were wet and shining with ichor. 

“The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir beware…” she read aloud. “Fuck me…” 

“Shhh!” Severus elbowed her in the arm. 

_ Is he really telling me off for my language? Now?!  _ She thought to herself. 

Minerva shooed away the students who had gathered around the gory scene back to their dormitories, leaving only Potter, Weasley and Granger.  _ Of course…  _ Circe thought, doing her best to emulate a Severus-esque eyebrow tilt. They shifted on their feet awkwardly, somehow looking even more conspicuous than before. 

“Good Lord Potter, that was fast.” She said, folding her arms. The Staff turned to Circe collectively and waited for her to continue. “Not two minutes out of my detention and you find your way into trouble.”

“Now now, come Professor.” Gilderoy butt in, pushing his way to the forefront of the crowd. “We mustn’t point fingers. What did I say to you earlier? Attention seems to find Mister Potter whether he likes it or not.” 

“Oh,  _ you _ said that to  _ me _ did you Gilderoy?” She narrowed her eyes at him and stared daggers. 

Dumbledore cleared his throat and Circe lay down her ocular arms to acknowledge the Headmaster. 

“Did you say Harry was in your detention tonight, Professor Smith?” 

“And Ron.” 

“You see Headmaster, it wasn’t me!” Harry protested. “Me and Ron found Mrs Norris like this when we left our detention with Professor Smith and Professor Lockhart.” 

“Rubbish!” Filch spat, leering forward. He looked like he wanted to strangle Harry. He raised a bony, thin finger at the boy and wagged it accusationally in his face. “You killed my cat, you evil little-“ 

“She is not dead, Argus. But she has been petrified. A condition very much reversible with the right potion.” Dumbledore said calmly. 

“Potion?” Filch asked, his eyes darting to Snape. 

“I believe before I brew the Restorative Draft, the Mandrake growing is Pomona’s speciality.” Snape said, trying to deflect Filch’s attention away from him. 

“But they’re healthy and strong, Argus. And they should be ready for harvesting soon.” Pomona chimed in, placing a comforting hand on the caretaker’s shoulder. 

Circe leaned in close to Severus as Filch wiped his eyes and blew his nose on Pomona’s hankie. “But doesn’t that potion take months to brew?” She whispered to him. 

“And almost constant supervision to ensure it doesn’t go stale and become useless.” He whispered back. 

“It is such a pity.” Gilderoy said a little too loudly for the situation. “Had I been here, I know the exact counter charm that could have saved her.” He bragged. He finished with a theatrical flourish of his wrist. Circe rolled her eyes. 

“Just a small little bat-bogey curse...please Severus?” Circe whispered to him. 

“No, Professor…” 

She tutted. “You’re no fun.” 

Severus smiled to himself. Pleased that she seemed to have her signature dry humour back after her run in with Gilderoy earlier. “So I’ve been told.” 

“Professor may we go now?” Hermione asked expectantly. 

Minerva signed heavily and nodded her head. “Very well. But straight back to the dormitory. No dawdling!” 

The three children turned on their heels and scurried away. Circe watched them go, running as if the wind was at their backs. She felt as though she were missing a piece of the puzzle again. Things happening within her grasp but just out of her comprehension. She turned back to the sticky red letters on the wall, losing herself in thought and trying in vain to visualise half-remembered manuscripts. Books with blurred words and phrases floated tantalisingly just beyond her conscious mind. She had read these phrases before. But for all her research and study, trying to recall where she’d seen them was like trying to grasp the memory of a dream.

“Staff, meeting in the Staff Room first thing tomorrow.” Dumbledore said resolutely. “And this corridor is to remain closed to students until further notice, or at least until we can clean this off-“

“No! Don’t clean it.” Circe butt in. She turned from the wall, back to the Headmaster in alarm. “It’s a message from the perpetrator. It’s important. The… the Chamber of Secrets…” 

“Professor?” Dumbledore asked expectantly.

“This has something to do with the very history of Hogwarts, I’m sure of it.” 

“Circe, you have researched this?” Mcgonagall asked.

“A long time ago. I think so. Hogwarts was built in the early Middle Ages, so it falls within my subject specialism.” 

“I see.” Minerva replied concisely. 

“Headmaster, let me find what I can about the Chamber of Secrets. I might be able to uncover some vital information pertaining to who may have done this.”

“And how they are able to petrify living things.” Snape added coolly.

“You… you don’t think this is just a student playing some kind of prank?” Gilderoy scoffed, almost laughing aloud at their concern. 

“No I don’t, Lockhart.” Circe shot back venom dripping from her voice. “And until we know for certain, I think we should err on the side of caution.” 

“I agree, Headmaster.” Snape said, standing at Circe’s side. Her blood flushed warm with delight at having Severus back her up so publicly. She let a small smile creep across her lips as butterflies filled her stomach.  _ Stop it! School-girl crushes have got you into enough trouble already tonight!  _

“Very well. Professor Smith, I hereby grant you full access to the Restricted Section of the library. Find what you can, and bring your findings to our Staff meeting.” Dumbledore said slowly, making sure his words were heard by all gathered. 

“Thank you, Headmaster” Circe replied, bowing her head slightly. “I shall leave no page unturned.” 


	12. "Till now, I always got by on my own."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals x

Minerva dressed solemnly after a worried night's sleep. She had tossed and turned through till the wee hours, listening out for any noise or sound that seemed alien in Hogwarts. Sheer exhaustion had eventually taken over and she fell into a troubled sleep, dreaming not of cats mounted on lantern hooks, but the lifeless bodies of students under her care.

The events on the Second Floor the previous evening had rattled her. It was disturbing, to say the least. Regardless of whoever was responsible for the horrid tableau, student or supernatural, it had rattled her otherwise sedate cool. As she pinned her hat to her head, she listened out once again for the stirrings of life from Circe's side of the quarters. When all she heard was the deafening ticking of her alarm clock, she sighed and entered the bathroom. She walked over to Circe's entrance and knocked on the door.

"Circe? Are you awake? It's gone half-past seven…" No answer came. Minerva frowned, recalling that she'd not heard even the tiniest noise from her friendly neighbor all night as she'd been straining her ears, lying in the dark. It was certainly odd that Circe was not up and about considering it was the morning before a busy day of teaching. Normally she ran into Circe at least once in their shared bathroom as she grabbed a hairbrush or was finishing brushing her teeth. Mornings were always hectic for teachers, yet they still found time for a friendly good morning and a gossip. Silence either meant that Circe was ill or was not in her bed at all...

It was possible that Circe was awake and gone from their quarters already, eagerly awaiting Dumbledore's emergency Staff meeting this morning. But Minerva was a light sleeper on normal nights, she would have heard her moving about, however quiet she had been. She threw her shawl around her shoulders and tried to keep calm, going in search of Circe.

She did not have to search for long. As she rounded a corner near the Staff Room, she bumped forcefully into what appeared to be a wall of books. The pile of paper exclaimed and crumpled to the ground with the impact. Pages fluttered around her like a flurry of feathers. Minerva reeled back as the paper settled, revealing the equally startled face of Circe. She looked frantic, still dressed in what she had been wearing last night, albeit with her mascara smeared unceremoniously under her eyes from rubbing at them all evening.

"Good Lord, Circe. Have you been in the Library all night?"

"Well… yes." Circe started gathering her dropped books and manuscripts back into her arms. "Dumbledore wanted me to present my findings at the meeting this morning."

"And have you gone to bed at all this night?" she asked her.

Circe shook her head. "I had to start. The Headmaster wanted to see us all this morning, I had to come with something!"

"Good Lord, I thought I didn't hear you come in. I was worried for ye when I didn't hear a solitary peep from you this morning. Let's get a coffee into you my dear." Minerva took a few books from her arms to share her load. She spoke the password to the knights on guard outside of the Staff Room, and the two women entered to an already buzzing space. Teachers are normally sedate and singular in the mornings, rushing to and fro with their own tasks, heads down, no interruptions. Now, everyone was a-chatter, milling around the room, all at sea. A few faces flitted to Minerva and Circe as they entered, quickly going back to their conversations when they saw that neither of them were the Headmaster they eagerly awaited.

Minerva lay down Circe's books on a nearby chair and Circe soon followed suit. As Mcgonagall hurried off to see to a coffee, Circe dropped heavily into the chair adjacent to her pile of books. She felt a little nauseous in the garish daylight. The final dregs of adrenaline that had got her through the long night were beginning to wear off. She rubbed at her eyes absentmindedly again, sending another black smear of mascara onto the back of her hand. Her head spun as the noise around her danced about her ears. She was lost in her heady drowsiness and the swirling words that she'd read in the night. She almost missed the sound of someone clearing their throat.

She looked up to see Severus hovering expectantly over her. His eyes flicked towards the piled books and papers on the chair beside her.

"Oh, sorry Severus." She mumbled, moving them onto the floor.

"Long night?" He asked, eyeing up her amassed research.

"Indeed."

"Find anything important?"

"Uhh well…" Minverva moved to her side and waved a cup in front of her face. Circe took it gratefully and blew on its surface. Severus moved to get up from his seat to give it to Minerva.

"No no!" She stopped him, waving him down. "You stay put, there's plenty of seating elsewhere. Severus, she's yours to look after now."

He coloured red at the remark and Minerva turned her back on the couple with a wry smirk on her face.

Circe rolled her eyes, almost calling back to Minerva that she didn't need anyone to look after her. She'd pulled plenty all-nighters when she'd been at University with her course-mates, all camped around a table together, sharing energy drinks and sugary snacks in the concrete monstrosity that was Edinburgh University's library. All furiously working on the same assignment, sharing references and points of insight. They'd turn their papers in to the faculty at six the next morning, just as dawn crept through the Library windows and then go have a celebratory full Scottish breakfast at The Station Arms. Although, the life of a student had afforded her the luxury of sleeping during the day. Now as a woman of employ, Circe knew that this time of day, early in the morning, wasn't the issue; exhaustion would hit at around five in the afternoon when the creeping nausea would get worse and she'd start feeling oddly emotional. The coffee too wouldn't really wake her up, just make her feel more wired and jittery. Yet, she still felt that even if Minerva ushered her off to bed then and there, she'd struggle to fall asleep. Her research had turned up much...

"Hey, Severus. Look what I found last night."

Circe called to him playfully. He looked back to Circe, a similarly wicked grin to Minerva's on her face too. She placed her coffee down and picked up a book from the floor. Opening the cover, she pulled out an old photograph which she'd placed safely within its pages. She held it up to Severus and giggled.

"Oh Lord…"

Severus wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. His eyes widened and he felt the blood rush to his face anew. There in Circe's hand was a picture of the Slug Club circa 1977. The group of young witches and wizards posed with Slughorn, perhaps at one of his parties or gatherings, all smiling brightly in their dapper gear. Apart from, of course, him; on the end of the picture, his face hidden by long, greasy black curtains of hair, looking very much like an awkward, gangly little prat.

"How old are you there?" Circe asked, flicking the photo back towards her to look at the image again.

"Seventeen." He gripped the arms of the chair, as if holding on for dear life. Circe smiled and chuckled a touch at his obvious discomfort. "Where did you find it?"

"In the restricted section. Last night. All of the past and present student records are kept there. Sensitive information, you see."

"Obviously you used your special access appropriately then…" Severus added sardonically.

"It was actually a bit of a filing error. Quite a few items for 'Slughorn, Horace' have been mistakenly placed with 'Slytherin, Salazar'. I'll have to let the Librarian know."

"Oh I see…"

"Still, it gave me quite the light-hearted break from my research last night." Circe smiled again, losing herself in the old, faded faces in the photograph. She traced the edge of her thumb over Severus's face and sighed. "You know, I don't think you've changed much."

"Wonderful. Just what everybody wishes to hear when compared to a school photo of themselves…"

"No, I think it's good. It means you're a constant. You have been you since way back when." She looked up to Severus, his face set in a quizzical frown. "Did I make sense?"

"No."

She laughed and sighed deeply. She took another sip of her coffee and placed the picture back under the cover of a book.

"I'm rather surprised you were not in the 'Slug Club'." Severus stated, desperate to move the conversation away from his time in school. "Quidditch player, music aficionado, Duelling champion…"

Circe groaned, realising just how much of her and Gilderoy's conversation he must have overheard last night. That drama seemed like years ago to her now. Had it only been a few hours back?

"I was for a bit. But Myron convinced me to stop going. He said it was social suicide and...y'know… that wouldn't have been good for 'the band'." She waggled her fingers in the air in mock quotations.

Severus rolled his eyes, thinking how right she was about the Slug Club. He thought cynically that he might have done the same if only he'd had a social life to sabotage.

"I don't think he held out much hope for me after I let him know I was off to a muggle University either. Think my photograph was banished to the back shelves after that."

"I believe mine too was placed in a similar location." Severus added, resting his cheek on his hand.

"Well, I think it's better to be at the back. It's more liberating to be…"

"Disappointing?" He ventured cynically.

Circe laughed. "Yeah, I guess that is the right word. Means you have less to live up to. Less pressure, you know?"

"The unexamined life and all that."

"That's the life you live for yourself. Not because someone expects something of you or banked on you when you were a kid. You achieve because you can, not because someone can cash in an 'I told you so'."

Severus thought carefully, chewing over Circe's point. Did the Slug Club members achieve because of Slughorn? Or were they always going to achieve and the Slug Club was vindication of that? Were he and Circe exceptions to the rule? Still, he thought back to the other faces in that photograph she'd turfed up, all of them exceptional wizards and witches who'd never made a wrong choice in their lives. And then there was him, a black sheep, radiating darkness and dubiousness even when he was seventeen…That black smear in the old photograph so unlike the other young, bright things around him. They were all destined for light. It seemed he had always been destined for the dark.

The room quietened into a deferential hush. Circe looked up from her coffee to see Dumbledore in the Staffroom, all eyes expectantly on him. She gasped quietly, sitting up straight in her chair. Severus turned around too, following the line of her sight. The Headmaster moved to the center of the room, his hands clasped reverently at his front. A solemn and serious look seized his old face and he looked from staff member to staff member, nodding to

each of them curtly.

"Thank you all for being here at the very start of the school day." He began, speaking in measured tones. "As I'm sure you are all aware, last night held some very troublesome occurrences. I cannot pretend to have all of the answers but please know, I will do all within my power to keep our students and you, my faculty, as safe as can be."

"But safe from what exactly?" Flitwick asked, pushing through to the front of the crowd. "What did it mean? The message?"

"Ah, that question Filius, I'm hoping Professor Smith can help answer." He waved a hand towards Circe and she suddenly found every pair of eyes in the room on her. She rose to her feet hesitantly and cleared her throat.

"Ahem… the message was a clear reference to a tale from the Medieval biographer Baldrick of Tysoe. Who wrote the definitive account of the founders of Hogwarts, if you're not up to speed with your historical chroniclers." She laughed nervously and looked around the room. When no one laughed back, she swallowed hard and continued. "Well, he of course wrote of the split of the four founders after their disagreement over what kinds of wizarding children should be permitted to be taught at Hogwarts. There is, surprisingly, no writings which survive from any of the founders themselves, so we unfortunately don't have Salazar Slytherin's own explanation for his decision. But I found local records of a gang of 'queer folk' who would come raiding the cattle of Highland villages near here and stealing food supplies by night. The Inverness sheriff stated in his records from 1028AD that the villagers said the 'queer folk' would turn into animals and rampage through the tithing barns, leaving nothing by daylight. There's a little song about it that I found in a Victorian anthropologist's study of rural Scottish folk tales. It's best read by a Scot, as it's written phonetically. Minerva if you would." She passed a piece of paper over to Mcgonagall, who took it.

Minerva adjusted her glasses, clearing her throat in preparation and began:

"Dinnae gae oot by dark'ness

Hide yer cows far frem thae castle

Fer the queer folk they shall bark an hiss

An thae do have nae vassal.

On wings an paws they'll spirit awae

Thine precious lambs an corn.

Sae in yer cottages ye stay.

Of the queer folk we do forewarn."

The whole room was deftly quiet, the old words sitting heavy in the air around them.

"So you think these animal transforming thieves were early Hogwarts students?" Severus asked, thinking carefully.

"Very likely, yes. Perhaps muggle born wizards and witches who maybe didn't understand the need to keep concealed and hidden from ordinary folk. Flexing their magical muscles, as it were. But I'm afraid Salazar's split was over more than just stolen livestock and a few frightened Highlanders. The early eleventh century was one of the worst periods for witch hunts in Scottish history. In this region alone there were at least fifty people hanged for witchcraft."

"But surely no self-respecting witch or wizard would have allowed themselves to be detained by muggle with finders?" Severus asked.

"Well, the witch hunts led to some rather zealous vigilante uprisings from the local population. And again, I can't be sure it's connected, but the original building plans for Hogwarts in 999AD show the Slytherin dormitory on the _ground_ floor. Quite near to where the greenhouses are now. In fact I think a few of the foundations were later used in the glass houses construction. But I digress...A few years later in 1030AD, the dormitory has been moved to a subterranean floor, where it is today. The only accompanying note with the change of the floor plan is a huge great line crossing out where the old dormitory was and the words 'fire damage' written above. It… well… it wasn't uncommon for vigilante groups to torch the homes of suspected witches…"

Minerva gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. "You… you think the Slytherin students were attacked by muggles? Burned to death when the old dormitory was torched?"

"Probably pure-blood students too. Students who _hadn't_ been the ones riling up the locals with stealing and fear-mongering." Severus added, seeing Circe's story come together in his mind. He could only imagine the horror that Salazar Slytherin must have felt, looking out over the burning remains of his House's dormitory. Attacked as they slept, unaware of the danger that had been brought down upon their heads. Young, helpless, dead wizards, his own students, buried inside.

"Like I said, it's impossible to know for sure, but Baldrick writes of a fixation of the Slytherin founder on pure-blood status thereafter." Circe added, sagely. "The other founders disagreed with this and Slytherin was banished. Or he left of his own accord. But the tale goes that Slytherin left a legacy and a warning before his departure. Deep within the castle, possibly when he rebuilt the Slytherin dormitory underground to avoid the possibility of another torching attack from muggles, it is said he built _another_ chamber. Not on any maps or blueprints of Hogwarts. A place where only his future heirs would know how to locate and access: The Chamber of Secrets."

"Professor…" Mcgonagall asked slowly. "What exactly is the purpose of Slytherin's Chamber? Why do 'the enemies of the heir' need to beware?"

"Well, at this point Baldrick becomes very vague and allegorical in his writing. It's difficult to ascertain his exact meaning, but…" Circe sucked in her breath, stealing herself to deliver the most unsettling blow. "Baldrick believed that The Chamber is the lair of a great monster. A monster that would rid the school of the"mudblood scum" that litters its halls."

"And I suppose this 'monster' can only be controlled by Slytherin and his heirs." Severus added, sighing deeply.

"So that is why, Staff, we must be on our utmost vigilance in the weeks to come. Listen out for any students who may be displaying 'pure blood' superiority ideologies and report them as necessary."

"That'll be half of the Slytherin cohort then…" Minerva whispered sardonically to Circe. Severus overheard her and shot her a deep scowl.

"Until then," Dumbledore continued swiftly, " we must adopt a strict curfew system. Students will not be permitted to be out of the dormitories past dark. From now on, all Staff will commit to a rota of patrolling the Corridors, on the lookout for foul play. If the alarm needs to be raised, then Heads of Houses will begin a student count as well as any other members of staff under their jurisdiction. Staff on patrolling duty will immediately return to the Staff Room for their own safety roll call. I believe this is the best way that we can quickly ascertain if there is anybody missing who may be in dire need of help."

_Or dead_ , Circe thought to herself.

Severus looked over to Circe and raised an incredulous brow at her, as if he had read her thoughts.

"Nice to know that we're being volunteered for the front lines." He whispered to her.

"Mmmm." She mumbled back. "Threat of lurking killer hell-beast wasn't a hazard I faced often at Edinburgh Castle."

"Professor Smith…" Dumbledore spoke, interrupting Circe and Severus's running commentary, "May I entrust you to research the school further? Any information we may be able to ascertain about the location of The Chamber, the better."

"Of course, Professor."

"And let us all pray that this is just an over-zealous precaution. Better to prepare for the worst and hope for the best. And we should all hope, if we hold dear and care for every one of our students, that Baldrick of Tysoe was only being allegorical. "

* * *

Severus loitered in the corridor just outside of the Staff Room with a hot, steaming cup of coffee in his palms. The cold stone walls seemed to leech all the warmth from his feet and hands and he clung to the outside of the hot mug trying to regain some feeling in his fingers. It seemed like he had a long, chilly night before him too...

He was in a bad mood. Possibly even worse than normal. The patrol rota in the Staff Room had disappointed him once again. A great huge black line through Circe's name next to his has sent his morale to rock bottom. He didn't know whether Circe was actively trying to avoid him or if her workload was genuinely getting the better of her. It had been some months since the first attack and he did not envy Circe's mounting responsibilities. She'd be feeling particularly sore today after the close but decisive loss of the Ravenclaw team after Potter caught the Snitch. Potter, as he always seemed to do, attracted harm to him like a magnet and had ended up in the hospital wing _again._ Although, Circe did seem in higher spirits as she'd struggled to keep a straight face upon seeing Potter's floppy, boneless arm. Severus admitted that he'd had a slight upturn to the corners of his mouth as Harry had been stretchered away. They'd had a good giggle to one another about the staggering incompetence of Lockhart and the bad luck for Potter that he'd been the one first on the scene. Of course, never loud enough for any of the students to hear them as they ushered their charge swiftly back to their dormitories at the match's end. It had been a brief, but welcome moment shared together after weeks apart. Yet to Severus it was still infuriatingly infested with the presence of others. Never alone. Never just the two of them, as it had once been.

Severus sighed and blew on his coffee. He paced just outside of the Staff Room, waiting for his companion on patrol that evening. Of course, he was not surprised who Circe had managed to swap times with: Minerva.

_It could be worse_ , he thought. _Could have been Filius…_

He was not kept waiting for long. He heard the approaching footsteps of heels on the flagstones and stopped to listen to the rhythmic clicking. Minerva rounded the corner, straight backed and alert.

"Good evening, Professor Snape." She said curtly.

"Professor Mcgonagall." He replied. The briefest flash of disappointment rippled over his face. Minerva caught it, lightning fast in her perception.

"I'm sorry, I'm not who you were expecting…" she said teasingly, reading his thoughts. Severus flinched, surprised at just how close to the bone she was.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Did you instruct your prefects how to conduct the roll-call in your absence? Only if needed, of course." He asked, trying to move the conversation along.

"I did. I trust you did the same."

"Yes."

"Right, well…" she strode past him, her heels clacking again. "Shall we?"

They walked along fairly amicably, deciding on the route as they went. Talking on a wide selection of topics from breakfast that morning, to the mounting levels of marking they both had, the time passed quickly. Minerva's company was not so bad. She was astute and quick-witted, and her no-nonsense attitude garnered quite a level of respect from Severus. In another life, they may have been friendly. Before Circe had come to the castle, it had been them who had passed sardonic looks and comments during Staff Meetings. Yet their age difference had never brought them close. Nevertheless, as Severus was bemoaning the loss of time to prepare for lessons in the evenings, Minerva couldn't help but feel a motherly pang of nurturing towards him. Of course, she remembered what Severus had been like in school: so very, very lonely. The target of much undeserving teasing. If James and Remus and Sirius hadn't had been in her house, she would have given them a much harder thrashing for their treatment of young Severus. Now as a grown man, she saw just how much of that pain he still carried on his shoulders and thought of all she might have done to help him when he was younger. Blame clasped at her heart and she went quiet for a while, letting Severus carry on talking. Mumbling and complaining on he went over his chock-full timetable and the much-felt loss of his assistant in the department…

Minerva narrowed her eyes and regarded Severus as he waffled on. He looked lost, but pleasantly so. His eyes focusing on something far away and lovely. Like he was looking out over a beautiful scenic view. Seemingly unaware that he had talked of nothing but how much he missed Circe's presence for the last five minutes.

_Oh bless him. The silly boy's smitten._

"...and I do hope she didn't take today's Quidditch loss too badly. Every spare weekend she's had has been spent on the pitch training with them." Minerva couldn't help but chuckle and shake her head. "Something wrong, Minerva?" His face hardened again as he was shaken from his musings by her sudden laugh.

"No, no…" she began. "It's just awfully-"

She stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes wide and her smile fading into an expression of horror. She looked past Severus, down the corridor they had just arrived at. Severus frowned at her and turned around to where she looked.

There, lying on the ground as stiff as a discarded action figure, was a student. Severus felt the colour drain from his face as dawning realisation hit him. Minerva rushed forward, laying a hand on the poor child's shoulder.

"The Creevey boy…" she muttered tearfully. "The one who's always taking photographs."

"Minerva, send a message to Dumbledore. I'll sound the alarm and begin the roll-call."

"It's just like the cat, Severus… stiff as a board."

"Petrified."

Mcgonagall began to sniff, her hand covering her mouth. "He's still holding his camera…"

"Minerva, focus!" Severus said forcefully, briefly halting her tears. "One child has been attacked, we must ensure no more needlessly fall prey to this…thing."

She nodded solemnly, wiping her eyes. She went about sending her patronus to Dumbledore as Snape sent a jet of red sparks streaming from his wand. They hissed and popped and went skipping about in all directions. Moments later, a shrill, high pitch alarm began to ring throughout Hogwarts' ancient halls.

* * *

It was gone midnight by the time Minerva and Severus had made their way back to the Staff room to be counted in the roll-call themselves. Colin had been deposited in a bed in the hospital wing, his little frozen body lying awkwardly on the mattress. Severus still held Colin's terrified face, hidden behind his camera, in his mind's eye, unable to forget the palpable fear that must have gripped him before he stopped moving.

The Staff Room was a-buzz, despite the lateness of the hour. The Heads of Houses gathered to report on who was and was not present in their counts. Nobody, as reported by the trusted prefects from Slytherin or Gryffindor, had been reported missing. Pomona Sprout emerged a few minutes later to tell that all of Hufflepuff were present and correct. Severus began to relax slightly as he took in the good news. He poured himself another coffee and leaned against the wall.

_Thank God it was only the one child…_ he thought. _We've been lucky tonight._

He turned to the sink and poured the last dregs of his drink away, ready for bed. He heard someone approach him hurriedly, the telltale click of their heels revealing who it was.

"Severus…" Minerva grabbed his sleeve and pulled him close. There was alarm in her eyes and the ferocity with which she tugged him. "Severus, Circe isn't here. And I've just spoken to Filius, she's not with the Ravenclaws either."

Severus felt his whole body seize up with ice cold panic. He understood Minerva's concern immediately, the lines of worry on her face transferring to his in an instant. Their expressions were both a mirror of each other.

He turned from Mcgonagall, his head in swirling turmoil. His heart pounded in his chest as he strode from the Staff Room. His world went quiet, save for the thunderous beating of his blood in his ears.

"Severus, wait! We don't have the all-clear yet." Minerva called after him. He didn't even stop, unconcerned for his own safety. Everything else around him faded away, unimportant now Circe was potentially in danger. The world passed by him as if it were in slow motion. Time dragged almost to a halt as dread consumed him.

_Don't You dare be dead. Don't you dare be dead._ He repeated over and over inside his head, trying to will it into reality.

He broke into a jog as he left the staff room, his head and his heart racing, aching… The corridors and rooms passed by him in a dizzying blur. He felt as if he were drowning, the air slipping from his lungs the longer he went without finding Circe's's face. He gasped, desperately trying to quell the mounting sensation of panic seizing his guts and chilling his bones. He rounded corners and peered down Corridors fearlessly, the possible danger of whatever lurked Hogwarts' halls going almost forgotten to him now. Nothing occupied his thoughts other than his frantic mantra:

_Don't You dare be dead. Don't you dare be dead._ _Don't you dare be dead._

His feet pounded against the flooded corridor on the second floor. The water splashed around him, soaking his trousers to the knee, and still he noticed nothing. He rounded a corner, almost slipping on the wet surface and saw Moaning Myrtle eyeing up the rippling puddle saturating the stone flagons and plush carpets on the floor.

"Myrtle…" he asked sharply, making the ghost girl snap to attention and cease her sniveling. "Have you seen anybody else like… like Creevey was earlier?"

"Poor boy," she whinged. "He'd come to take pictures of me. Wanted to see if I showed up on his film. I told him to bog off when he followed me into the girl's bathroom."

"But have you seen-"

"I started throwing toilet brushes at him to make him leave… He must have run straight into the attacker!" She wailed loudly and Severus was forced to shield his ears from the racket. He thought of the Creevey boy's face, hidden behind his camera: frozen in a mask of horror and sheer fright. _Am I going to find Circe looking like that?_ He thought, visibly flinching as the question passed through his mind.

"Myrtle!" He shouted, silencing the girl mid-cry. "Was there anyone else? Around here?"

"Not that I've seen…"

Severus began at his jog again, not holding to hear Myrtle's continued whingeing. His mind was cycling through a thousand and one different awful scenarios. What kind of horror had done that to Colin Creevey, and had that same horror caught Circe? He continued his search, sending up a small prayer to whatever higher power might hear him.

_Please, let her be all right. I can't do without her now. Please. Until her I always was content to be on my own. Don't do this now. Don't take someone else I've come to care for…_

His thoughts raced, the search and his inner bargaining becoming more and more anguished and hopeless.

_God, I would kill to have had one more moment alone with her._

Severus almost ran past the library when he noticed the great door slightly ajar. A small sliver of golden light escaped from the tiny crack, glinting off the deep polished black of Severus's boot. No one should have been in the library at this hour… Especially under these circumstances. Severus crept through the small opening, trying to be as quiet as he could. He held his breath as he peered around the deserted room. His eyes cast over empty desks and half abandoned books. Students had left an innumerable amount of small things lying about to hint at the activity normally going on in the room: frayed quills and rapidly drying bottles of ink, half tucked in chairs around vacant tables. Yet it was all bathed in darkness and thick silence... save for a single corner of the library. Around one bookshelf Severus spied the deep orange glow of a burning lantern. Drawn to the light like a moth, he tiptoed over to the small alcove, holding his breath in anticipation. Wand raised, he rounded on the small corner and there, collapsed on top of a small mountain of books was Circe… utterly dead to the world.

Severus was about to rush to her aid when she gave a small snore and mumbled in her sleep. He backed away, leaning heavily against the shelf and sighed so deeply he felt like a great sob had escaped his chest. His eyes filled with tears of relief and he wretched silently, the emotional gravitas of what had transposed finally catching up with him. He gasped as he wiped his face with a sleeve, leaning his head back against the bookshelf and sending up a message of thanks to whatever listener he had been begging to before. Finally, he composed himself and moved back to Circe's side. Her head was tilted to the right, her cheek resting against the open book pages beneath her. Old yellowed maps of the castle lay sprawled out around her, a maze of dark inked lines an ancient script that Severus could not read in the amber light. From an empty flask at Circe's side, he could smell the strong scent of stale coffee. Obviously it has done very little in keeping her awake and alert…

He lay a hand on her shoulder and gently shook her awake.

"Circe…"

Her eyelids fluttered as she was roused from dreaming.

"Oh God, Severus. What time-"

"Get up."

"What? What's wrong?" Why are you so-"

"Another child has been attacked. And _you_ were not at the Ravenclaw or the Staff roll call." He interrupted, his last remaining pangs of worry melting away back into his default thorny irritability.

"Another one?!" She asked aghast. Circe rose to her feet, sending a stack of papers cascading off of her desk. She tutted frustratedly at herself and desperately grabbed at them, trying to stop the flow of toppling papers.

"Do you have any idea how worried Minerva and…" Severus trailed off, realising what he'd been about to say. He also realized just how close he had stepped towards her. Somewhere buried deep inside him, smothered by his misplaced anger, he was inconsolably happy that she was safe and secure. That small but burning ember of happiness longing to be close to her.

"I'm… I'm sorry. I must have fallen asleep." She muttered, her brow furrowing. She rubbed her sore eyes and massaged the crick in her neck from the odd angle she'd dozed off in. "I've just been so busy with research that I just fell asleep. I'm exhausted, Severus…"

Circe has been trawling the library every spare moment she had. Sometimes staying up to research well into the small hours of the morning. The daily slog of teaching continued regardless of her extra work and she found herself quite drained. Still, the school needed her and she pushed away the longing for bed and rest to press on with manuscript upon manuscript. Her continued research so far had turned up nothing of great importance, and with each passing night her frustration deepened. Eventually all details, labels and embellishments on the many pages she studied all blurred together in a hazy swell of coloured ink. Her eyelids were heavy and her coffee was cold. The next thing she knew, Severus had been shaking her awake.

"Do you realise you could have fallen victim to whatever is stalking these halls?" He advanced on her, his heart still relentlessly thumping. "You completely slept through the alarm."

The light from Circe's lantern cast deep shadows across Severus's face, sharpening his features to a knife edge. As if he were carved out of stark white marble. Not unlike the wise, weathered faces of Roman politicians she'd seen standing like sentinels in countless museums and galleries across the country. His straight, imposing nose as sturdy as any Gallic General. His brow as rigid and lined as any ruminative Senator. His eyes were dark and unfathomable, sunk into shadow yet every bit as piercing and arresting as ever. They threatened to engulf her, swallow her up in their endless enigmatic ruin. He stripped her bare with his jet eyes and Circe felt breathlessly naked before him.

"You… You came looking for me?" She asked slowly. She watched Severus's features relax as he pulled upright stiffly.

"I was… concerned for your welfare."

"Severus…?"

He cast a furtive glance back to her and, despite the bags under her eyes, his heart still sang at seeing her vivid green irises looking back to him, well and unharmed. Not vacant and glassy like the petrified Creevey boy's. Severus swallowed hard, trying very much to stop another sob from rising from his throat. His mask of composure slipped for a brief moment as he reached out and took her hand. The feeling of the warmth of her palm confirmed in his mind that she was here, safe, alive...

_Alone. With you…_

Circe held her breath. The sudden familiarity taking her completely by surprise. She stared at his pale slender fingers on top of hers. The touch minuscule. But the smallest of movements sending Circe into waves of aching, pulsating longing. His mouth was right there, hidden in the long shadow cast by his ebony black hair. She yearned for it. Everything in her wanted to lean into Severus and kiss him. Pin him to the bookshelves. Be utterly consumed by him. Yet he looked fragile, vulnerable, more drained than she was. She did not move, rooted to the spot as if she were trying not to spook a forest doe.

"You're alright." He breathed finally, still refusing to look up from his hand on top of hers.

"I am. Did… you come looking for me during the alarm?" He did not answer, merely looked up at her, his mouth set in a hard line. "Severus you shouldn't have risked your own safety to come looking for me by yourself."

Severus let go of her and Circe felt the coldness from his absence on her skin at once.

"You are the only adult within these walls that I would have done so for." Severus said, almost a whisper. As if he were afraid of hearing his own words aloud. Every hair follicle along Circe's arms stood up as goosebumps rose on her skin.

She leaned in close to him a tiny fraction and Circe heard Severus gasp so quietly it could have been mistaken for a breath. Yet he did not back away. Instead he regarded her hungrily, feeling the same stirrings of desire within him that she did. Her lips were full and open before him. The look in her eyes driving him to despair. So close he could smell her perfume again, the floral peony a sweet intoxication. He reached up to her face and brushed a curl away...

"Circe…?! Circe!" A voice called from the entrance to the Library. The door swung open, flooding the room with light from the outside corridor. Circe gasped and Severus turned around to face the intruder.

"Minerva?" She called out, trying in vain to mask how utterly undone she felt.

"Oh Circe, you're alright!" She rushes forward, extending her arms out towards her. Minerva enveloped her in a warm, strong embrace and gently rocked her, sighing happily.

"I'm so sorry for all the hassle I've caused." Circe began. "Severus found me out cold on my books."

"Good lord, you had us worried sick!"

"I know. I'm sorry…"

"You mustn't work so hard. If you're popping off to sleep mid-chapter then Dumbledore is asking too much of you."

"No, no… it's all the high energy quidditch practice-"

"Poppycock! I'm a light sleeper, remember. Every night this week I've heard you crawl into bed at an ungodly hour. You'll be no help to our students if you're dog-tired and burnt out. Tell her, Severus!"

Minerva looked to Snape imploringly, and caught him still mentally recovering from his and Circe's _moment_. He felt very much like a baby severed from the umbilical cord: confused, cold and wanting to weep.

"I…. I will update the roll-call…. let everyone know you're safe...to stop searching." He stuttered. "Excuse me, Ladies."

He almost pushed Circe over as he strode past her. He caught the last notes of blushed suede under her peony scent, rich and deep, insanely tantalising. Severus wrung his hands together and tried to push her beautiful lingering smell away. He strode from the room without looking back, fleeing from her and the feelings she invoked. Circe was left in the wake of his absence, feeling bereft and hollow. As she watched Severus leave, she knew that evening she'd be replaying their moment in her head again and again. The fantasy of a kiss that never happened, a brush of her hair, the feeling of his fingers on her… it had given her much to think of from beneath her covers...


	13. "Be aware of evil men."

Chapter 13- "Be aware of evil men."

Circe's Friday evening was going much the same as all her other Friday's had been for a long while: namely, very busy. She was nested into her corner of the library, already several books and maps deep in her research. She must have looked at every blueprint and drawing of Hogwarts from the Norman Conquest to World War Two. All of them invariably absent of a neatly labeled subterranean room showing where The Chamber of Secrets was located. Circe was beginning to lose her nerve. She had found very little of use at all. All of her hours of work stuck in these book-lined walls with nought to show for it was breaking her spirit. Not to mention her stamina for long days and late nights was already wavering.

She closed another useless book on the plumbing structure of the castle and tossed it to the side. It had been dark out for a number of hours and Minerva would skin her alive if she wasn't back in their rooms by the late evening. She always managed to smuggle a few books under her coat and into bed with her as Mcgonagall kept a very close eye on her following the night of Colin Creevey's attack. She'd already be annoyed that Circe was out by herself past dark. She reckoned Minerva would give her a detention if she still could. Still, she appreciated her friend was trying to save her from burnout, but every second spare Circe had was vital. The quicker she found her breakthrough moment, the sooner the school could be a safe place again.

That is, of course, if Quidditch practice, gigging, a full teaching timetable and Gilderoy's new Duelling Club didn't finish her off first… Of course, Gilderoy couldn't pass up the opportunity to be at the center of attention. Her little alcove in the library enabled her to be hidden from sight enough to eavesdrop in on students' conversations. From what she'd heard, everyone and their mum would be attending tomorrow and somehow she'd been roped into chaperoning.

Circe sighed to herself, internally bemoaning how she'd managed to wave goodbye to the first free Saturday she'd had for almost three months. Myron had blissfully cancelled their gig that weekend and all Quidditch matches had been postponed for the near future. Yet she could have guessed the fates would find a way of dropping something onto her plate. Something _with_ Gilderoy's presence, just to drive the knife in. She glanced down at her watch and sighed again. She looked around the room and noticed that she was yet again alone in the empty space.

_Bugger, Minerva will be pissed with me. I should know better than to be caught by myself with something awful stalking about. Especially after the search party I caused last time…_

She started filing away her books and manuscripts in a hurry, already hearing Mcgonagall's chiding voice in her ears.

She stopped dead as she lifted the last of her books off the desk she'd been working at. Underneath her evening's work she'd placed an old newspaper from The Daily Prophet from some twelve years ago, judging by the date in the corner. She'd found the news archives at the beginning of her evening and had been searching for any headlines pertaining to renovations or exploration done at Hogwarts in days gone past. She'd found two things of use in her newspaper hunt: the first being reports of the first time attacks like this had happened at Hogwarts, all the way back in the forties. Surprising, to say the least, but ultimately a dead end as she theorized whoever had been conducting the attacks back then would be long gone from Hogwarts now. Plus, they seemed to have come to a swift end when a student had died, and Circe hoped this time around it wouldn't come to that, if she had anything to say about it. _Still, would have been nice if Dumbledore had told me this had happened here before…_ she thought.

The second newspaper find had peaked her interest for an entirely different reason. That particular issue had caught her eye, not because of her enquiry, but because of the dark, brooding photograph on the front page: Severus, looking up from his shoes, straight into the camera that had snapped him, emerging from what looked like a Ministry hearing. "Full story on page 3." read the caption beneath it. She of course wanted to read it then and there but self-discipline had forced her to place it on the bottom of her research pile as a keepsake for later. As her fruitless hunt for the Chamber gained momentum, she'd ended up completely forgetting about it… until then.

She looked down at Severus's dark eyes, suspicious and shifty in his picture. Circe'd had half a mind to try and smuggle the paper back under the covers with her that evening. She'd found herself thinking of Severus often enough as she stared at the canopy of her bed, her hands roaming to the tender places on her body. But now, she paused and reconsidered the headline again. The Newspaper was published not long after the end of the War, in that strange time of turmoil when wizarding families from all over the country found themselves exposed as Death Eaters and pulled up in front of the Minister. It was the "Nuremberg Trials" of the wizarding world and it had all happened around about the same time Circe had been largely removed from the magical world. She knew Severus had served in the wizarding war, being almost six years her senior, but in what capacity she didn't know. She sank slowly back into her chair and teased apart the slightly yellowing pages.

"The trial of Severus Tobias Snape concluded today in hearing room 203 of the Ministry. A jury of his peers found Mr. Snape not guilty of the charges raised against him.

Allegations had been made against Snape (22) pertaining to his loyalties in the Great Wizarding War. Several prominent Death Eaters mentioned Snape in their trials as an ally of the now deceased Dark Lord. "Severus was present at our meetings. Check his arm, he bears the same mark of allegiance as all of them." stated Karkaroff. V, at his trial on the 23rd of December.

Despite the surmounting and damning evidence against him, Severus walks from the Ministry today a free man. This is largely due to the testimony of his star character witness. Court records do not disclose who this individual was but following the testimony of this person, they were able to assure the jury beyond reasonable doubt that Snape was innocent.

The Daily Prophet asks the following questions: who was this person and why was their word enough to discount the many many accusations put towards Snape by other convicted Death Eaters? Furthermore, should Headmaster Dumbledore be letting into his employ an individual who fought possibly on the wrong side of the war? Would _you_ want your children to be taught by an alleged Death Eater?"

Circe closed the paper solemnly, feeling like her chest had been ripped apart. She sat still for a long while, trying to mentally digest what she had just read. Her eyes stared vacantly at the picture of Severus on the front page, each time he looked up at the camera sending a shiver down Circe's spine. She wanted to weep, but no tears came. She felt numb, heavy limbed, cold to her core.

"A Death Eater…" she whispered to the air around her. "Not you… please not you...".

* * *

The next morning, Circe heard the buzz of excited chatter and talk of almost all of Hogwarts from a great many paces away from the Great Hall. By the time she got there, the noise was cacophonous. A dueling dais had been erected in the center of the Hall, around which everybody present crowded, waiting patiently and eagerly. A few of the students nodded and waved to her as she slipped inside to cast a wary eye over them all, making sure no misbehavior was underway.

"Professor Smith!" A voice called to her from within the gathered crowd. She looked over the tops of the students heads, searching for who had called to her. Pushing his way through the bodies was Percy Weasley. She groaned to herself, not having the mental energy for Percy after her fretful night of troubled sleep. The words of the Prophet article she'd read in the library kept swirling around her mind's eye, refusing to let her rest. She'd been a little more generous with the application of her concealer today, but she still ventured that she looked more wired than usual.

_Wait, did I remember to brush my hair?_

"Professor! Isn't it exciting?" Percy said again. She smiled politely and hummed in agreement. "Do you suppose Professor Lockhart will let us practice this session, or just demonstrate?"

"Oh Professor Lockhart won't pass up the opportunity to perform, Percy." She responded rather sardonically. "Are there any other Staff members here?"

"No, just you, Lockhart of course, and-"

Almost on cue, the crowd parted to the left of Circe and there was Severus, looking back at her. Something stirred in Circe's stomach as their eyes met across the room. She felt herself grow heavy limbed and numb again, as Severus nodded ackhowedgingly to her. It was as if she were looking at him again for the first time, and in a way she was. He felt almost like a different person to her now. Someone she didn't know at all. And yet… the darkness of his eyes and his imposing straight-backed stance still managed to send a familiar spike of pining through her. She nodded back to him and quickly turned away, striding off to a quiet corner to watch the children discreetly and silently torment herself with uncomfortable thoughts. Perhaps if she were left alone she could mentally work through just how confused she felt.

The children quietened and a hush descended over the gathered crowd. Gilderoy mounted the stage in a splendid dueling outfit of plush royal blue velvet. He looked even more peacock-esque with each passing day, and here he was in his element: strutting about, showing off and making it sound like he was the authority on everything in the world. After his introductory speeches he threw off his cloak and produced his wand.

"So, shall we begin with a short demonstration?" He asked the students. A mutter of excitement rippled through them and Percy Weasley turned back to Circe, smiling broadly.

She gave him a congratulatory thumbs up, as if to say 'well done for pre-empting this', and folded her arms. As he turned back around, she rolled her eyes and chuckled slightly.

"I'd like you all to welcome to the stage my assistant!" Gilderoy waved a hand down the dais, and there climbing the steps was Severus. His arms were folded across his chest too and Circe immediately let her hands drop to her sides, noticing how she had unintentionally mirrored his body language.

"I am not your _assistant, I_ am your _colleague,_ Professor Lockhart." He spat in a low voice. Gilderoy pretended not to have heard him and proceeded with his explanation of the rules of dueling.

Circe watched in grim fascination as Snape and Lockhart faced one another, performing the ritual bow at the start of any formal duel. They turned from each other and walked away into their initial positions.

_Gilderoy's starting pose is all wrong_ , she thought to herself critically. _Why go defensive when he can clearly see Severus is on the offense?_

Gilderoy began the countdown.

"One...Two...Three…"

"Expelliarmus!"

It all happened too quickly. Light flashed from Snape's wand, heading for Lockhart, and the next thing Circe could see when the stars faded from her eyes was Gilderoy on the floor several feet from where he had started. It took him longer to recover his breath than it had been to defeat him, but eventually he rose to his feet to a few awkward laughs from students around him.

"I… I let him do that, kiddies." He stuttered. "Just so you could see what being disarmed by an opponent looks like. Of course, had I been properly engaged in the fight I could have easily deflected Professor Snape's attack."

"Of course…" Severus muttered. He moved to leave the stage and turned his back on the hand of congratulations Gilderoy had offered him.

"Well… uh… how's about we do a little loser-goes-off? Hmm? Just so the students can see a different fighting style and they don't have to watch too much of me letting people win…?" Lockheart stuttered.

Circe rolled her eyes.

Severus had dismounted the dais prematurely and he too groaned. This would mean he'd have to beat someone else… Which poor student would Lockheart choose for his next easy victory? He thought rather confidently. He wandered through the gathered children as Gilderoy played the huddled crowds of students like a ringmaster asking for a volunteer. Somehow Snape found himself by Circe's side, arms folded. He groaned, hoping to garner some sort of sardonic quip or muttering from her as they were known to do in staff meetings together. Nothing.

If anything, he thought he sensed her tense slightly as he positioned himself at her back. She didn't even turn to look at him.

"The stupid peacock will get some poor student hexed into next week." He offered, hoping to coax her into their signature sardonic sparring matches. "Three galleons Potter volunteers for it."

Circe couldn't help but smirk, his wit breaking her steely resolve for a moment. She cleared her throat and her ice wall went up again, refusing to turn to see him. On her tongue burned a thousand questions, she did not trust herself to not scream them at him if she looked into khis face. She felt like her skin was seared red from the tense anger bubbling just under the surface. Is this the same man she had read about in the Prophet? The Death Eater… Supposed ally of The Dark Lord… Was Severus really capable of it? She knew the answer was yes, but it still stung. As well as being rude, brooding, short tempered, he was dangerous, too-faced, mysterious. It had left her head reeling with questions and confused anger. But in the midst of her head, one realisation sat protruding from her mind-fog like an obelisk at the center of the maze signaling what lies at the core of it all:

Rather infuriatingly, she realised it had only deepened her infatuation with him…

In avoiding Severus' eyes, she inadvertently made eye contact with Gilderoy.

"Ah! Circe!" He piped. She groaned as Lockheart broke the unspoken rule that Teachers never used each other's Christian names in front of students. "I remember, back when I ran the Ravenclaw Duelling club as a Prefect…"

_No you bloody never…_ Circe thought to herself.

"That you were quite the upstart Under 16's duellist! Learnt all your skill from your dedicated Teacher, of course." Gilderoy smiled sweetly.

Circe felt the red mist of rage falling around her. She tried to concentrate on happier memories: putting Lockheart on his backside quite a few times. Her a humble third year, him taking his NEWTS. He had refused to duel her after a while, and Circe had worked her way through all of the other budding duellists without stopping to pander to the sulking Lockheart once, despite the nasty rumors that circulated around the club after Charlotte Ambrose's party...

"Now, I won't ask the student to duel against her Master…" Lockheart crooned, Circe's knuckles went white around her folded arms "But what about you versus Professor Snape?"

The students erupted around them. Whispers and nudges rippling through the gathered children surrounding the dais. All eyes were on them. She saw Granger's mouth hanging open in shock, Potter and Weasley in excited conversation, and Mr Malfoy whispered to his two cronies at his flanks. Fred shook George's hand, probably placing a bet on her and Severus similar to the one Snape had made moments ago at Potter's expense.

Snape had been hurt by her coldness of recent. He wanted to be a tad spiteful. He was the master of cold and haughty, not her. He wanted to grasp at any tenuous grip of dominance he could, even if it was pointless. Confused as he was, he reverted back to his shield, his protective outer display of nastiness once again. Quietly enough, just audible for her ears, he leaned close to Circe and whispered "You do not have to accept if you're scare- ahem -nervous, Smith…"

She gritted her teeth together in anger.

" _You. Wish_." She whispered to the air in front of her. Lost in the crowd's hubbub, Snape did not hear it.

Purposefully she turned around to face him, her lips set in a cold line, but her eyes ablaze. Snape razed an eyebrow at her to match her in the unspoken war of haughtiness between them.

"I accept the challenge." Her voice was low, steady, purposeful.

If the students had been buzzing beforehand, they were practically bouncing off the walls now.

Circe mustered her sweetest smile for Severus and held his gaze. He cocked his head to the side, showing his tell-tale sign of visible confusion. Yet, much to his own chagrin, he caught himself smiling wickedly back after her.

He waved his long black sleeve towards the dais invitingly. A path through the throng of students seemed to clear before them instantly as Circe walked to the stairs. As she passed Fred and George she overheard one of them up his bet on her to four galleons and smiled to herself, struggling to suppress a snort.

_What am I doing?_ She thought. _You know this won't change anything. Even if you beat him, he's still what he is. He still did what he did. And if he beats me..._ Circe's thoughts halted in their tracks as she locked gaze again with Severus at the opposite end of the platform, walking purposefully up the steps once more. It was a look of hunger, intimidation, palpable sexual tension, like the meeting gaze of two lovers from across a bar, and Circe's heart leapt into her mouth. _Well, if he beats me maybe it'll help sever this stupid little crush…_

She shrugged off her outer robe, clasping her wand in her hand. Both started their agonisingly slow walk towards each other to meet in the middle of the dais. By the time they stood almost toe to toe, the room was silent.

_I've never fought a Death Eater…_ The thought seemed to thunder in the silence around them. The thought should have scared her. It didn't, it exhilarated her.

In unison, they both raised their wands and bowed reverently. His eyes burned at her as they broke to take their primary positions.

"Are both parties ready?" Lockheart asked.

"Ready." Circe replied curtly. Her heart pounding.

"Ready." Severus purred. His hands sweating.

"On three then." All held their breath. "One… Two...Three!"

Two powerful jets of red magic erupted from both wands instantly. They collided together and the magic boomed and sparked at almost the strength of a small explosion. Students around them gasped and looked away as the blinding light flared. The previous match had been child's play compared to this, lulling them into expecting something tame and civilized. It was shocking to them just how much raw power had just burst forth from their mentors.

Circe and Severus were both sent reeling backwards slightly on their heels at the strength of each other's pent up primary move. Circe took the initiative and broke the headlock, pirouetting on her feet and wrapping the magic stream around her and back at Severus. Snape lurched forward as if an invisible tether tied to him had been yanked towards her. He lost his footing, almost stumbling into the re-directed red stream of magic coming his way.

"Protego!" He shouted. He recovered just in time, blocking and sending the red light ricocheting into the ceiling above. He was taken aback by her skill. He would not underestimate her again.

She pressed her attack and sent a series of small sizzling jets of magic his way. They whizzed like a rocket firework, deafening to anyone watching in awe. Each time, Severus shielded himself from the onslaught, sending the sparks in a myriad of directions around him. But she was pushing him back, getting closer and closer to him. Yet there was no break in her onslaught for Severus to retaliate. He was almost at the end of his side of the platform when she was almost upon him. In a moment of desperation, he swept his wand at her vulnerable feet, screaming "Everte Statum!" as he allowed one of her hexes to hit him square in the chest.

Simultaneously, an excruciating electrical shock wracked Severus's chest and he sank to the floor, whilst Circe had been blindsided by Severus's tactic and she went spinning through the air, landing hard on her front. With the wind knocked out of her, her face landed hard on the platform below her. Her nose exploded in pain and she cried out. Severus was the first to rise and saw the steady stream of blood now flowing down Circe's face. She dabbed at it with her sleeve, much to the horror of the onlooker's face's around.

"I'm fine! Don't stop!" She almost screamed. _What crazy bastard takes a hex full on in the chest?_ She raged in her mind. _That could have been a cruciatus or the killing curse if I was an enemy. He's either incredibly stupid or incredibly brave… or both._ Despite her protestations, Snape halted momentarily, his wand poised protectively in front of him. He moaned quietly from the ache in his chest, luckily for him only a small electrifying hex, but he almost pained just as much from seeing Circe's bloody nose.

"I said I'm fine!" Circe shouted at him "A Death Eater wouldn't stop for you mid-duel if you'd hurt yourself fighting them!"

Circe saw the lightning quick twinge of hurt pass over Severus's face. She regretted saying what she'd said almost instantly, but there was no going back now.

"Kampanoulia Flamaria" he hissed, his signature blue flame erupting from his wand. He sent it in a wave-like onslaught at her, and it was now her turn to block. How cool it felt as it nearly enveloped her, involuntarily bringing back memories of how Severus had used it in the Stone's protection. She could almost feel Severus's hurt in the icy lick of those flames around her. It was overwhelming. Deadly. Consuming.

She had to think. How to fight back? She couldn't break the barage like Snape had, she'd freeze-burn to death from the bluebell flame. She gritted her teeth together in a feral snarl, building up the push charge deep inside her. She roared as she felt her magic pool in the pit of her stomach. Mouths hung agape around her, even Severus stared in awe.

"Expulso!" She finally shouted, sending the charged retaliation back down the platform. It broke the torrent of blue flames as Snape and others close enough to feel the shockwave of the blast had to duck for cover.

She was exhausted, panting and sweating freely, but she dared not stop now. As Severus stumbled and tried to maintain his balance, Circe could see it was time for her final move. Snape reeled, his ears ringing from the blast he had just endured. His balance shot, he knew he was a gonner when he raised his head to see Circe powerfully stamping her foot down into the wood of the dais.

The wood creaked and rumbled below his feet. It seemed to warp and distort, all coming from Circe's foot, snaking and moving its way like a live animal scrabbled beneath the surface. Suddenly, a board beneath his footing sprang upwards as sharply as a heavily weighted seesaw. It caught his left foot and He finally lost his precarious balance as the springboard sent him toppling backwards. He landed hard on his back as the wind was knocked out of him.

Within seconds she was on top of him. "Expelliarmus!" Her final spell came, and he felt his wand spin from his fingers into her hand.

There was absolute silence as they stared fiercely at each other, her wand pointed square at his face. Above him, her nose was still bloody and her breath still ragged, looking every bit like the conquering warrior she was. Despite his wounded pride and sore back, he found himself utterly captivated by her savagery. Their eyes locked and their panting breaths synched. Slowly, Severus raised his arms.

"Yield." He said in a low voice, yet the room was still enough that all heard it.

Heated discussions rippled through the students once more as Circe dropped her wand. She thought she better offer him a hand up, being the good sportsman she was. He took it after a second's reluctance and was pulled to his feet. Lockheart came bounding towards them both, eager to bask in their hard-won glory for himself.

"Fantastic, Professors!" He cried "It just goes to show, when you're taught by the best, even the most seasoned duellists fall prey to you, eh-Circe?!"

He nudged her in the ribs. Circe wanted to punch something, namely him, but she was too exhausted to even entertain following the idea through.

Through it all, the chatter, Lochkeart's crooning, Fred and George exchanging their bets nearby, Severus and Circe had not stopped staring at each other. Severus gave a short little stiff-backed bow to her.

_I guess that's all the congratulations I'm getting from you._ Circe thought dryly.

She returned his curt bow. "Professor." And turning on her heels she marched from the dais and out of the Great Hall.

She felt all eyes upon her as she did so, including Severus', but she dared not look back. The adrenaline within her now fading, her nose was excruciating.

Still, it was a measly wound to have suffered for someone who had taken on a Death Eater and lived to tell the tale…


	14. "Monday, you can fall apart."

Chapter 14- "Monday, you can fall apart."

Circe's nose was still bleeding badly when she almost ran headlong into Dumbledore. She had been trying to make a break for outside to go and sit contemplatively under the banks of a tree and feel sorry for herself, but it now looked like her plan of escape had been thwarted. She swore quietly under her breath.

"My dear, what on earth happened to you?" He asked, looking her bloody attire up and down with alarm. He placed a hand on her shoulder as if stopping her from storming off on her way.

"I… ugh…" Circe touched a hand to her nose. She didn't want to speak to anyone, only find a quiet corner of the grounds to cry in and clean the blood off her face. Yet when she looked back to Dumbledore, her tenuous grip on keeping herself together unraveled like knitting yarn. "Headmaster, I think I picked a fight where I shouldn't have…" she couldn't hold it back any longer. Her bottom lip quivered and the tears sprung up hot and sudden in her eyes.

"Come with me." Dumbledore said simply. "I know how to tend to a broken nose when I see one."

She let herself be let away by the Headmaster. He took her strongly by the arm and up into his office. She was lost in thought as Dumbledore sat her down into the chair opposite his desk and placed a steaming hot cup of tea before her. He hummed absentmindedly to himself as he sat down a plate of sugared almonds beside her teacup. Circe was caught off guard and a small laugh escaped her chest.

"They're my favorites…"

"Are they?" Dumbledore replied, perching on the end of his desk. "We used to have them at Christmas when I was a boy. Please do help yourself. It'll make this experience a whole lot sweeter…"

"What experience?"

"Episkey!"

Circe felt her nose snap and she cried out as pain bloomed in her face. She touched a furtive hand to her nose and felt the still sore but now correctly positioned feature back in place.

"Thank you, Headmaster." She said through gritted teeth, giving her nose an experimental wiggle. "Suppose I should have known better than to think I'd had my share of nasty surprises of recent."

Dumbledore moved to his chair behind his desk and lowered himself slowly into it.

"Yes, I wonder Professor, if you came across something during your research that you wish you hadn't?"

Circe looked at him aghast. She thought for a second of calling his bluff, but as Dumbledore peered at her from over his half-moon spectacles she knew lying to him he would get her nowhere. She tutted and smiled sadly to herself.

"You really must tell me how you do that, Headmaster." She replied jovially, taking an almond."So I suppose you already know about the duel between Severus and I."

"Know? My dear, I _heard_ it all the way from my office. I was just moving to investigate the noise when I bumped into you. I would've thought us as staff have enough on our plates currently without trying to blow each other up too."

"Well I'd have thought you'd know all about Severus's capabilities with regards to blowing people up, Headmaster." Circe said cheekily. Dumbledore went quiet and Circe knew that she had gone too far with her previous comment. She looked around sheepishly, blushing fiercely. The Headmaster peered at her for a long moment and Circe thought that she would surely be dismissed for her insubordinate temper next.

"So what did you find out about him, my dear?" Dumbledore said at last, as gently as a lamb. She looked up from her tea sharply, surprised at the kindness in his voice. She teared up again and started fiddling with the almond she still held in her fingers.

"The report of his trial at the Ministry." She answered him, the emotion plain in her voice.

"Ah."

"And _you_ still employed him here regardless?"

"He was found not guilty by the jury of his peers, Professor." Dumbledore replied defensively.

Circe scoffed and rose from her chair, pacing about the room.

"You know, I'm not even angry that he didn't say anything because, well, I bloody wouldn't have either if I were him." She walked from one end of the room to the other, thinking aloud as Dumbledore patiently listened. "It's just, as soon as I began to think that I understood him… Knew him in a way that others didn't… Well, it turns out I didn't have the foggiest idea of who he is at all. It actually turns out I don't have the foggiest idea about much of anything, really."

Her feet took her over to Fawkes's perch where the great old phoenix watched the proceedings curiously. Circe extended her hand to him and he nuzzled into it.

 _What a beautiful animal,_ she thought.

 _Although he looks like he's at the tail end of his life cycle._ Circe noticed how the bird moved a little stiffly and the feathers at his crest were faded and frayed. She stroked the bird's head as she talked on.

"And all that evidence… The other Death Eaters who spoke out against him . The dark mark on his wrist. How could all of that have been dismissed because of one character witness?"

"Oh, well there I can help you Professor. That's because the character witness was me."

Fawkes cooed as she stopped dead mid-stroke and turned to face the old man.

"You?"

"Severus…" Dumbledore hesitated, looking deep into Circe's eyes. "… was a double agent during the war."

She gasped, her mouth falling open in shock. "He… He was in the Order?"

"Yes. It's a small wonder that you didn't see him at the headquarters in your younger days when you tried to get into a few of the meetings." He chuckled. Circe coloured red as she remembered her thwarted efforts to join the resistance. Why did she ever think that just rocking up and lying about how old she was would ever have worked? She cleared her throat and moved on.

"So he…"

"Passed vital information on to us in the Order from within the very inner circles of Voldemort's cohort of followers."

"My God, he lied to the Dark Lord's face?"

"Frequently. And well enough that nothing was ever suspected of him. Without him, who knows what state the wizarding world would be in today."

"So why wouldn't he tell everyone? Shout his innocence from the rooftops? Take an ad out in The Prophet for God sake?"

"Because… He does not wish to have it made public why he chose to betray Voldemort's confidence."

So, regardless of where things had ended, Severus _had_ been an ally of the Dark Lord. _He changed sides later._ She rolled the phrase around her mind, testing how well it sat there. It was still a bitter pill for Circe to swallow, but it was a truth a measure easier to digest now she had the bigger picture. An image of Snape revealing his face by removing the telltale mask of the Death Eater flashed through her mind. Her stomach lurched in that uncomfortable but pleasant way that it did when she thought about him. She quickly tried to bury the image deep within her psyche and move on, filing it away for her to morally grapple with later.

 _He broke your nose, AND you've just had it confirmed that he was originally a servant of Voldemort and you think that's… sexy?! Fucking hell, Circe._ She thought to herself, grimacing outwardly. _But becoming a spy… an agent of espionage… having to be surrounded by your enemies every single day and get them to gain your trust. How brave. An outer shell of darkness and malice, but at the core goodness… How very Severus._

She thought of asking Dumbledore why Snape shifted loyalties, but the resolute look in the Headmaster's eye told her that he'd never betray Snape's confidence. She sighed and reluctantly let the issue drop.

"Why are you telling me this, Headmaster?" She asked slowly.

"Because, Professor…" Dumbledore said, rising from his chair to give Fawkes a gentle stroke at Circe's side. He looked her dead in the eye and she waited on bated breath for his next words. "Contrary to what you say, I believe you _do_ understand him and know him in a way most others don't. It has been quite a joy to watch the two of you form your own unique… friendship. And believe me I understand just how difficult it can be to be around Severus, but goodness knows he deserves some happiness. I would hate to see your bond squandered over a grave misunderstanding such as this."

* * *

It was that weird time in between Christmas and New Year that always felt like a perpetual Sunday. Circe had rather reluctantly been ordered home for the big day at Minerva's behest, Yet she had once again smuggled a few books past her beady eyes. It was a very different Christmas from last year. Even though she was surrounded by family, she somehow felt more lonely than her last Christmas at Hogwarts. Never one to spoil others fun, she'd kept herself to herself as the boys had left Santa milk and a carrot for Rudolph, preferring to claim that she had marking or planning for the next term to do. In the post-Christmas slump, she had been spending the languishing time spread out on her Dad's sofa reading what she brought. Myron dragged her out of her recumbent reading position to do a few gigs in the pubs around Warwick. It was a welcome distraction and whilst she played and sang with her old friend, she almost forgot the terror that stalked Hogwarts halls by night. Myron always managed to put a few beers in her and their musical evenings were full of jokes in good spirits. It was not a bad Christmas, at the end of the day.

Yet underneath it all sat an uneasy bitter feeling of unachievement for Circe.

"I just feel like I've missed something important, My." She said one evening at the bar of The Dirty Duck. "Or I have cast aside something that I didn't look at deeply enough."

They moved outside, their guitar cases swung over their shoulders, and Myron lit a cigarette. The two looked out over the river of Stratford on Avon at the RSC, illuminated still in Christmas lights.

"Didn't you say there was another attack just before the holidays?" he asked, passing her a lit cigarette.

She took it and took a small drag. "Mmm. A Hufflepuff boy and Sir Nicholas."

"A ghost? How do you petrify a ghost?!"

"Beats me. _Moving_ a petrified ghost is even harder by the way…"

Myron laughed, his breath clouding in front of him in the cold night air. He sighed and drew his brown teddy bear coat around his thin body. He was one of those musicians who seems to live off lager and cigarettes. Always with a generous smudge of eyeliner under his eyes and his hair at odd angles.

"Cee…" he said, grasping his pint. "Every time I see you, you talk about nothin' else. You're obsessed with this."

"How can I not be? My kids are being attacked, Myron."

"No, I know. I'm just saying with you being you… When you want somethin', you don't let up till you've got it."

"Meaning?"

"Meanin' , the kids will be fine if you're on the case. You're _this_ far away." He held up his black painted fingers an inch apart. "I can feel it."

She sighed and took another drag on the cigarette watching the ducks paddling merrily on the water. Myron watched his old friend slip back into thought, away from him. Circe had always been like a bulldog with a bone when she was working at something hard. When they'd been in school together, he'd made it his mission to make sure she lightened up every now and again. She always worked so hard, and it made Myron feel tired just looking at her study sometimes. It turned out Circe knew how to be silly and spontaneous too when needed (or plied with enough butter beer) and what had started off as an unlikely friendship matured into an odd but still complimentary pairing. Like cheese and… yoghurt. Music had come to them both naturally, Myron being the face, the performer, and Circe being the craft and the soul. Yet, when her head was elsewhere she was like a far away ghost. Ever since she's gone back to Hogwarts in September, Myron could tell he only really ever had 80% of her with him at rehearsals or gigs.

"Jesus, Cee. We need to get you laid."

Circe was roused from her far off thoughts and looked at her friend with contempt.

"What? Oh fuck off."

He laughed crassly, and paused as she handed back his cigarette. "You don't like being away from Hogwarts now, do you?"

"What?" She asked. "How'd you get to that?"

"When we finish up a gig normally, you're always apparating away before I can say 'beer or wine?'"

"Well you know why. It's because of this-"

"Nah, it's not just that. I've known you for over ten years now, Cee. You have that look of someone who's homesick or… Well I don't know… Like when you drag your lovesick mate away from their girlfriend for the first time for a drink down the pub."

"You must miss it too."

"Hogwarts? Yeah of course. I've spent my adult years tryin' to recapture the magic me and you and the others had there with our music. But I'd put money on something else going on there, apart from your little murder mystery."

"It's not a murder mystery, Myron. No one's die-"

"Something with a bloke maybe. Eh, does Slughorn still work there?!"

She playfully hit him on the arm and scoffed. "Give us a fag." She said, evasively. Circe only ever smoked when she was with Myron. But it was a taste she'd come to associate with him, and pubs, and gigging, and drinking.

"Cee," Myron said contemplatively, handing her a lighter and a fresh cigarette. "If you want to go back, then forget about our New Year's Eve gig. I'll cancel it. In fact, let's cancel all the other gigs we've got comin' up until you've solved it... Go and catch this prick. Tear down every wall and rip up every pipe, if need be. Make Hogwarts a home for those kids again."

"You sure, Myron?" She asked, wide-eyed.

"Yeah. I'd feel bad knowing I've kept you from a breakthrough… Wouldn't sing right, you know?"

"Oh, Myron…" she leaned forward and kissed him on the head. She leaned back in her chair grinning from ear to ear. Then, suddenly a piece of the puzzle shifted in her head and would not slot back comfortably into place. Her brow furrowed and she stared off into space. "Myron...What did you say just then?"

"What? About catching whoever's doing this to Hogwarts?"

"No, what did you say after that?"

"Tear down the walls and rip up the piping to catch them, if you have to…"

"The fucking plumbing! I knew I'd dismissed something too soon." She downed her beer and picked up her guitar.

"You're going right now?"

"Ring Dad for me and tell him I won't be home tonight. Tell him I had to go back to Hogwarts urgently. I'll be back for my suitcase later."

"Fine, fine…" Myron waved his hand nonchalantly, chuckling as he watched his friend trot away towards the river bank. "Good luck, Cee!" He shouted after her.

"Thanks, My!" She called back over her shoulder. She ran down to a secluded spot just under the eaves of the currently empty RSC theatre. Fumbling in her pocket, she pulled out her wand and thought of a spot as close to the Hogwarts grounds as she dared, without picturing a no-apparitions location. Settling on the Shrieking Shack, she cast the spell and went flying off into the night air with a pop.

* * *

Circe walked up and down the Hogwarts corridors with 'A Complete and Detailed History of the Plumbing and Piping of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry' in her hands. The first place she had run to upon being back at the castle was the library, where she had hastily tugged from the bookshelves the book she had so unceremoniously thrown aside before. To any who might have seen her, she may have appeared like a mad woman: muttering to herself, flicking from page to page, stroking the walls and running her eyes from floor to ceiling. She felt alive, buzzing with an energy that had evaded her for a long while. The pages in front of her were headache-inducingly complex. The pipes seemed to wind and snake under the floors and over the ceilings, invisible to her behind the walls and carpets.

"My God, they're massive." She whispered, looking at the scale of the map she inspected. She paused for a while, measuring the diagram with her fingers next to the index beside it. "Big enough for someone to walk through easily…"

Her feet guided her from floor to floor as she walked the length of each pipe for as long as she could before it branched off to a place that she couldn't follow. What she searched for was an opening. Somewhere where she herself could step inside and go exploring. She found a few tiny air grates close to the ground, large enough for a child to crawl through perhaps, but not her. Her frustration was beginning to peek again when she found herself at the entrance of the green houses.

 _The site of the ancient Slytherin dormitories…_ she thought. She looked back to the pages of her book and saw a number of pipes seemingly ending in this area. _Perhaps if I look around a bit… Move a few flagstones about…_

She shut her book and moved wordlessly inside, closing the dragon-shaped handle of the glass door behind her. The inside was flooded with the comforting smell of earth and a sweet bouquet of an array of different flowers in bloom. The outside light was long gone, creating a thick, impenetrable black curtain around the greenery before Circe. She walked around the busy tables a few times, running a hand over the half filled pots and spilled soil from Pomona's lessons. Plants and greenery always had a way of relaxing Circe, which is why she loved being outdoors as well as her and Minerva's little conservatory so much. The greenhouses too had a strange soporific effect on her previously frantic mood. She stroked the waxy green leaf of a ginseng plant, the weird roots of the thing looking like it would get up and walk away from her at any moment. She laughed to herself, thinking on how she would never have had a thought like this had she still been living in her flat in Edinburgh. The wizarding world had rather conditioned her to expect everything to be either charmed or alive in some way… Out of the corner of her eye she saw an odd protruding ridge in the flooring. She crouched to the ground, inspecting the hump in the tiles she had spotted. She followed the ridge, easily four feet wide, marveling at how well it was hidden under all the gardening equipment and flower beds around her.

_A pipe!_

Her heartbeat quickened again as she followed the ridge from one greenhouse to another. She halted as she came to a small annexed-off section of the very last of the greenhouses, shut tight away from everyone by a heavy hinged door. Perhaps this was Pomona's little private greenhouse, or maybe it served as a storage room not unlike the one Severus had in the potions department. It was dark inside the small room, but Circe could just about see a few seemingly ordinary plants sitting in small pots along the surface of the table inside, and on the floor there was what looked to be a huge drainage hole covered with an iron grate.

 _The entrance! And it looks at least six foot wide._ she bristled with excitement. Circe smiled and moved to grab at the ante-room's door handle when she spied a series of earmuffs hanging on the wall by the door.

 _Weird…_ she thought to herself, until her eyes fell on something even more surprising...Through the glass door, on the table just on the other side of it sat her old Walkman.

It took her completely by surprise, so out of place in a setting such as this. Without a thought she tugged open the glass door and strode into the small ante-room. She picked up her Walkman, noting that it sat on top of a number of muggle CDs that weren't hers. To her knowledge, no one else in the castle had these things and she stared at them in astonishment. She picked up a few, inspecting them closely: Bowie, The Rolling Stones, The Clash...

 _These… these must be…_ Realisaion hit her like a train as she recalled who she had lent her Walkman to at the very end of last year. "Severus's!" She almost shouted.

She startled as the plant beside her shivered and cooed, roused by her noise. She dropped the CD's she held and they crashed on top of one another sending a disturbed ripple of movement through the other plants in the room. Tentatively, she moved her head a fraction to peer inside the pot at whatever leafy creature was sitting within it. Dawning horror made her heart thunder in her ears as she saw the ugly, baby-like face of a mandrake… There was silence for a second as the creature peered at Circe. She too was staring back at it, holding her breath. Then. It screamed.

She clasped her hands to her ears as a pain unlike anything she'd ever felt rattled through her skull. The other mandrakes joined in the chorus of howling and shrieking. She stumbled backwards in alarm, and in her clumsy footing, she backed into the room's door, shutting her inside with the screaming mandrakes.

 _Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck…_ she thought, already feeling the dizzying effect of the plant's noises on her. She moved to face the door and reluctantly took her hands away from her ears to try the handle. The pain in her head soared as the handle stiffly refused to budge, jammed and refusing to open for her. She reeled from the cries as the effects of the mandrake's screams threatened to make her pass out. She snapped her hands back over her ears, doing little to drown out their noise or ease the excruciating pain in her head. The ear muffs sat on the other side of the glass, tantalizingly out of her grasp.

She staggered about the room, desperately searching for something to help her, trying to stay conscious with every ounce of her concentration. If she passed out, she'd die. That she knew for certain. She fell to her knees, her head swimming as if she were drunk. Circe looked back to the Walkman that sat on the tabletop and made one last attempt to grab it. The shrieks of the plants filled her ears as she removed her hands again, and she fell to the floor, the CD player in her hands. Circe desperately stuffed the earbuds into her ears with the last of her strength, and with fumbling fingers she mashed away at the buttons, praying that the thing still had battery power.

She was on the very edge of consciousness, lying prostrate on the floor, waiting for noise to fill her ears. Nothing came.

_It's dead._

_I'm dead._

_Ahh, fuck…._

Darkness clouded over her eyes...

She let the pain consume her….

And then, noise.

Blissful, blissful music filled her ears. It drowned out the mandrake screams instantly and Circe felt herself crawling back into the land of the living. Her eyes opened and she stared up at the glasshouse's ceiling, breathing deeply as the pain in her head slipped away into nothing. She laughed, sheer elation washing over her as tears of relief sprung up in her eyes. She paused for a moment, listening to the song that had just saved her life.

" _I don't care if Monday's blue_

_Tuesday's grey and Wednesday too_

_Thursday, I don't care about you_

_It's Friday, I'm in love."_

She laughed harder. "The Cure! He likes The Cure!" She shouted, barely able to hear herself over the song in her ears. "The maudlin bugger! Of course he likes The Cure!"

" _Monday you can fall apart_

_Tuesday, Wednesday break my heart_

_Oh, Thursday doesn't even start_

_It's Friday, I'm in love"_

She rose to her feet, pure joy and euphoria taking hold of her. Circe began to dance and sing to the music, waltzing about the ante-room like a woman possessed. She sang to the still screaming mandrakes, pointing at them and performing to the ugly little things as if they were an adoring crowd of fans. She didn't know how long she danced and sang for, starting the song again every time she heard it winding down. But it was in that state of pure buffoonery and jubilation that Severus found her.

He had heard the screams of the startled mandrakes from far away, running through the corridors of Hogwarts towards the alarming noise. Whatever he had expected to find… it certainly wasn't Circe dancing with gay abandon in the mandrake greenhouse, the Walkman in her ears, singing at the top of her lungs to 'Friday I'm in Love'. He stood on the other side of the glass, mouth agape. She was in a world of her own, not even seeing him when he reached up to take a pair of earmuffs from the wall and place them over his own ears. He opened the ante-room's door with a forceful tug and it swung open for him.

"Circe… Circe!" He shouted to her back. Yet she still couldn't hear him. He rolled his eyes and grabbed her wrist, making her almost jump out of her skin.

"Severus!" She shouted back to him, beaming from ear to ear. "You've developed some good taste!"

"Oh for God's sake, come on…!" He tugged her forcefully from the room and they both fell through the glass door, sprawling out onto the floor together. Severus's earmuffs fell from his head and he cried out in pain, clutching at his ears. Circe kicked at the door and it slammed shut, sealing in the excruciating mandrake screams for good.

Circe sighed and finally took the earbuds out of her own ears, looking at Severus with a broad grin still etched on her face. Severus did not share in her expression, his face like thunder.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?" He asked sharply. "I thought you were away for the holidays."

"I was, but-"

"And why were you picking a fight with a full crop of fully matured mandrakes, you stupid girl? Where are your earmuffs? You could have died if you'd listened to them for too long."

"I think I almost did." She laughed, wiping her eyes. She rose to her feet, extending a handout to Snape and helping him up. "Did… did you say they're fully matured now?"

"Yes, I have been preparing them for brewing. I should be able to start the Restoration Draft tomorrow."

"Oh Severus, that's brilliant! But didn't you say it takes constant supervision to make sure it doesn't go stale?"

"Yes…"

"Then we'll both monitor it. Together. I'll talk to Dumbledore, get him to cover some of my lesson time. I'm sure he'll oblige me if I tell him I'm helping you out." She smiled, feeling her face flush with the memory of her and the Headmaster's last conversation. Severus's heart soared at the thought of having them working side by side once more.

"I… bu-... Don't avoid the question! What are you doing here?!" He asked her again, all a-flutter.

"Severus, I think I found something useful…"

She walked back over to the glass door, and Severus rushed to her side thinking she was about to go into the mandrake room again.

"You see that grate?" She asked, pointing at the iron lattice on the floor.

Severus sighed and looked to where she pointed. "I do."

"It's a pipe."

"A pipe?"

"Yes, part of the plumbing system of the castle."

"I'm not following you, Professor." Snape said coldly.

"The Chamber isn't on any recorded maps or sketches of the castle. But I'd be willing to bet my bottom dollar that the plumbing network is linked to it. And look…" she peered around the greenhouse, looking for where she'd discarded 'A Complete and Detailed History of the Plumbing and Piping of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry'. She thumbed through it and settled on a particularly complex-looking map of interwoven lines. "These pipes, underneath the greenhouses, are some of the oldest in the school. And look…" she flicked to another page. "... they go to the subterranean floors and quite a few of them mysteriously stop here." Her finger settled on an oddly blank space on the diagram of Hogwarts's underground floors. Snape frowned and pulled Circe's book closer to him.

"Where is that?" He asked, bemused.

"I don't know. According to all the maps I've seen this year, there's nothing there."

"Professor, it could just be an underground drainage lake."

"Or it could be The Chamber, Severus!"

Her face was lit up like a child at Christmas. He looked down at her, caught off guard by the spark of passion in her eyes. The ferocity of her excitement radiated from her. He hadn't seen her like this for a long time and it warmed something small within him too; she shone, from her core to her brilliant green eyes and he marveled at the palpable felicity in her every glance.

"You weren't going to go crawling inside that thing, were you?" He asked sardonically. "Without telling anyone where you were going?"

She looked to her feet sheepishly, realizing just how carried away with her discovery she'd been. "For the love of Merlin, what if you'd run into the monster!"

"I… well…"

"Do you have a death wish, Professor?" He asked incredulously.

"Alright, fine. Not my cleverest moment."

"Indeed."

"But… when I've planned something, and prepared… you'll come with me, Severus?" She asked, looking up at him with her best long-lashed puppy eyes.

Something about the cadence in her voice, so pleading and in want of him, sparked a stir of desire within him. He felt himself stiffen and he had to shift in his feet awkwardly to hide himself.

"Yes… yes of course." He replied quickly, turning from her.

She smiled and bunched up the Walkman's headphones in her hand. Her heart had slowed to a regular pace, now all of the adrenaline had left her body and she was suddenly overcome with fatigue. _God I wish I had another one of Myron's cigarettes_ , she thought to herself. _Coffee will have to do._ She strode over to Severus and placed the Walkman back in his hands before continuing her path to the Staff Room.

"This is yours." He replied rather awkwardly. "I should have returned it to you much sooner."

"Keep it." She replied, pausing at the exit of the greenhouse. "It sounds like you've been using it more than I would be."

Circe smiled and Severus coloured red in embarrassment, realizing that she must have seen the small selection of his now sizeable CD collection that he'd left in the mandrake room. He liked to listen as he worked away on the creatures, testing their sap potency and measuring their growth. It was something he'd taken great pains to hide from staff and students alike, and he thought his newly acquired muggle habit was safe from prying eyes during the holidays. And now he was exposed, feeling like his very soul had been laid bare before Circe.

"I told you that you just hadn't found the right music, Severus." Circe added with a wink, before leaving him speechless and red from his ears to his feet.


	15. "I'd run right into hell and back"

Chapter 15 - "I'd run right into hell and back"

"Modfather to Aunt Bessie. Come in, Aunt Bessie"

*crrrk*

"Professor Smith, this is ridiculous…"

*crrk*

"I didn't catch that, Aunt Bessie. Try again."

*crrk*

Severus rolled his eyes and massaged the space at the very top of the bridge of his nose.

He stirred out his frustration on the Restoration Draft in front of him and dripped a few cautious drops of mandrake sap into the cauldron. He vented a myriad of colorful swearwords into the empty air around him and then picked up the Muggle device Circe had left for him.

"Explain the blasted nicknames to me again." He spoke into the device.

" _Codenames_ , Severus. Not nicknames. Aunt Bessie for you because you're busy cooking away up there. Aunt Bessie's is a muggle food brand that makes roasties and Yorkshire puddings and the like."

"Wonderful, so I'm a made up brand mascot. And yours? Modfather?"

"Paul Weller, the Modfather!"

"Nope. No clue."

"Paul Weller was in The Jam. And I'm ' _Going undergrouuuuuund._

_Well the brass bands play and feet start to pound_

_Going undergrouuuuund…'_!"

Her singing came over the walkie-talkie static loud and clear.

"What do you want?" He asked sharply, over the top of her song.

Circe laughed to herself, the sound echoing off the barrelled walls of the pipe she was currently traversing. This was her umpteenth exploration of the sewage networks of Hogwarts and she was tiptoeing through slime and darkness yet again, her wand producing the only light she had before her. Severus had tried accompanying her on her first few exploits down the drainage ditch in the greenhouse. But it very quickly became apparent just how claustrophobic he was. Circe could cope just about with the oppressive smell and the damp blackness of the tunnels but she could see Severus sweating and shakily breathing beside her, at any moment seconds away from a panic attack. He would have simply soldiered on had it not been for Circe's insistence that he stay on the surface. Severus couldn't tell her that his crippling fear of small spaces stemmed from when he was a boy. His father would lock him in the cupboard in the kitchen where the boiler was kept. It was horribly small, completely black, and oppressively hot, and his father would keep him locked in there until he almost fainted with dehydration. Still, it had resulted in Severus being able to monitor the Restoration Draft whilst Circe took to the pipes alone. Severus had approached her with a copy of the plumbing and piping map laid out in 'A Complete and Detailed History of the Plumbing and Piping of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry', which he had spent all of the previous night drawing by hand.

"If you're going by yourself, I can at least guide you from the surface."

He showed her his work and demonstrated the tracing charm he had placed upon the map that showed Circe's location, wherever she was in the labyrinth of Hogwarts's tunnels and pipes.

Circe came to a fork in the tunnels before her.

"Left or right, Aunt Bessie?" She spoke into her walkie-talkie. They had been Circe's idea, as they were a quick and easy way of staying in contact without the faff of casting a patronus each time they wanted to confer. Severus, of course, had at first looked at them like they were litter she had picked up off the street and handed to him. But even he couldn't deny their usefulness, even if Circe insisted on their silly little codenames…

"Left will take you back to the Jubilee line, right will take you to Charing Cross again."

Their exploration of the tunnels had gone into such detail that they now had nicknames for particular pipes or areas of the school's network, taken directly from places on the London Underground. Long mainline pipes that could span several floors of the castle were "lines" and places where a small opening or exit could be found back to the surface was a "stop".

"Okay, I'm going back to Jubilee. I'm going to try and get into that tunnel that goes past the girls bathroom again."

"Again? You've tried three times this week. It's blocked, Modfather."

"Look, I think that's the tunnel we've been looking for, Aunt Bessie. The one that will take us down to the subterranean floors. I'm gonna have a go at bombarda-ing my way through it."

"You might cause a whole tunnel collapse if you try that!" Severus shouted down the walkie-talkie at her.

Circe shivered and cast a weary eye up to the moss covered stones on the tunnel's ceiling. She certainly didn't want to be buried alive by those things toppling down upon her head.

"You're on hand if anything happens to me. And well… Just assume that if you haven't heard from me in over five minutes then I'm buried under rubble and one thousand years of Hogwarts's dirty bathwater."

"I don't much like this plan, Circe." Snape muttered, feeling as helpless as ever from where he stood. How he wished he could be beside her in the thick of the danger, to protect her. Not stood on the sidelines like some matron at a football match with the halftime satsumas. It would finish him off to have to drag her lifeless body from a cave-in, but he knew she would never be convinced otherwise and it was useless trying to argue with her or talk her down when she had her sights set on something.

"Didn't catch that, Aunt Bessie… Codename not used." she said teasingly, smiling to herself.

"Oh for fuck-" Snape grumbled, almost ready to throw the walkie-talkie across the room. He took a few deep calming breaths before pressing the intercom again. "You're just coming up to Knightsbridge now, by the way."

Circe saw a small grate to her right, just above her head. Light streamed down into the pipes from the small opening and Circe rushed to it like a moth to a lightbulb, desperate to be in the brightness illuminating the dark. She stood on her tiptoes and peered out of the grate and into the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Once or twice on previous explorations she had seen Gilderoy still seated in his classroom, practising faces and chat up lines in the mirror. But it was completely empty today.

"No one here today, Aunt Bessie."

"Pity." Severus's voice crackled back to her through the device. "I suppose we'll have to look elsewhere for a one-man rendition of 'Summer Nights'."

Circe laughed, remembering that particular night's exploration, catching Lockhart singing the 'Grease' soundtrack to himself. She'd had to take off her jumper and stuff it into her mouth to stop herself from laughing out loud and giving her position away. Circe had been crying tears of mirth over her and Severus's firewisky debrief, explaining to him how Lockhart had a blonde bob wig in his desk that he put to good use in his performance.

"Do you think he'd take requests if I wrote them down and stuffed them through th-BAAAAH!"

Circe screamed and dropped the walkie-talkie. Severus dropped his pipette and felt himself go cold.

"Circe…?! CIRCE?!" He shouted down the intercom. He went quiet, staring helplessly around the greenhouse, waiting for a noise to come through on the radio.

"I'm alright…" her voice finally came, in between pants. Severus sighed and released the breath he'd only just realized he'd been holding. "It was the incy-wincy's again."

"More spiders?"

"A whole nest of them. Right behind me. Caught me completely off guard when I turned around and shone the lumos straight into them. The horrible things scattered and lurched at me."

Circe, like many people, hated spiders. Normal spiders were things she tried to avoid, but the ones she'd been coming across in the pipes were outright nightmarish. Some being the size of rats. However, at the center of the nest she had just disturbed was a particularly big bugger about the size of a terrier, the biggest she'd seen so far. Circe took a moment to try and calm herself, waiting for the hairs on her arms to lie down flat again and for her heart to stop drumming against her breastbone.

"You're seeing them more and more frequently now." Severus commented.

"Yeah, I've noticed that too. And they're getting more and more agitated."

"Rather nasty infestation. You want to keep going?"

"Yes, of course. I'm fine, Severus. Don't worry."

"Sorry, I didn't hear that last one, Modfather. You didn't use the codenames." He chimed in, smiling to himself.

She scoffed and let a small laugh escape her lips.

Her sound echoed off the walls of the tunnel and synched up almost exactly with the far-off noise of footsteps. Circe almost missed the sound, but she stopped dead and held her breath as her ears peaked. She listened so strenuously and astutely that for a second she thought she may have imagined it. But it came again, loud and clear. Deliberate, hurried footsteps slapping against the wet, dirty floor of the tunnel.

"What is it? Why aren't you moving?" Severus asked over the intercom.

"There's someone else down here, Severus." She whispered back to him.

"What? It can't be."

"Definitely." She broke into a jog, chasing where the footsteps came from. "Follow me, Aunt Bessie. Tell me where they're heading." Her jog became a run as she fixed her sights on catching up to whoever else she'd heard. Water splashed up around her as her feet pounded against the floor. The maze of pipes, turnings and corners whizzed past her in a blur of grey stone and sickly green damp. Severus radioed to her as she passed each major junction or exit.

"You've just passed the intersection for the Bakerloo line… Now you've just gone past Holborn… That was Tottenham Court on your left just then…."

The footsteps she followed became louder and louder, until she felt that she was almost on top of them. Weeks of exploration had afforded her an almost photographic memory of the plumbing network by now. She mentally tracked her movement according to Severus's announcements, and plotted her line of pursuit in her head. _They're going to the girl's bathroom turnoff too…_ Circe rounded a corner and in the thick darkness that filled the tunnels she thought she saw the black swish of a school robe. The shock of it made her almost stop dead.

"It's a student, Severus." She panted down the walkie-talkie.

"Who?"

"I don't know, I can't see-"

Circe's footing slid from under her as she tripped over something. She went sprawling out onto the filthy floor beneath her. The dirt of hundreds of years coated her front from neck to feet and she felt the wind leave her lungs.

"Eurghhh!" She picked herself up and looked back down the pipe at what she had tripped over. It was tiny, and it looked like brick in the half-light of the barrel vault. She walked over to it, internally cursing the thing for making her lose track of the student she'd been chasing, and picked it up. _A book…_ She turned it over in her hands, inspecting it. She cast the lumos spell over it and saw the name engraved in its front. _Tom Marvolo Riddle_. _No student called that here now._ She thought. _Wonder how long this has been down here. Or maybe the Scarlet Pimpernel I was just chasing dropped it…_

Then, from the darkness behind her, Circe heard a deep, vicious growl. It rattled through her bones and shook the very walls around her. The blood in her veins ran cold and a terror gripped her unlike any other that she'd ever felt. She suddenly felt not like the hunter, but the hunted.

_The monster…_

From out of the dark came scrabbling a number of spiders, fleeing from the creature in a panic. They didn't even bother to stop and acknowledge Circe, running from the danger as fast as their little legs could carry them.

_If they're running away from it, then what kind of awful thing is this creature?_

"Circe… what is it?" Snape asked, his voice now seeming ten times louder from the intercom than it had been previously. The growl deepened, acknowledging that it had heard the voice on the walkie-talkie, and Circe gasped.

"Severus…. it's here." She whispered. "I need to be quiet, I'm sorry…." and with that she smashed the back of the device on her hand and the batteries came flying out into her palm. Then, she turned and ran…

Her only option now, based on where Severus had told her she was, was to try her luck blasting through to the girl's bathroom. All the other "stops" were too far away now. She felt the presence of something massive and deadly moving in the pipes nearby. She knew that if she didn't make it out of the plumbing network soon, then she'd suffer a similar fate to the other petrified victims… maybe even worse. Panic gripped her as she ran for dear life and she skidded to a stop as she finally came to the blocked passageway she'd been searching for. It was small, perhaps four foot tall, but large enough for her to crawl through and if the thing that chased her was as big as it sounded, there'd be no way it could follow her through the space. She raised her wand, ready to cast the blasting spell. Circe shot one last look to the ceiling above her. The crumbling, misaligned stones made her pause and she remembered Severus's warning to her about a possible cave-in.

_What would be worse? Crushed to death by falling masonry, or wait here and see whatever it is that's chasing you?_

She closed her eyes and held Tom Riddle's diary over her head as a futile bit of protection.

"Bombarda!"

Stone burst from the tunnel entrance in great jagged plumes and she shielded her eyes from the debris. She coughed and stood stock still as the pipe rattled precariously around her. Dust fell from the ceiling and she gasped… but no collapse came. She fell to her hands and knees and began precariously scrabbling through the hole she had just created. It was a snug fit, but she got through, leaving the growling menace at her back. Complete and utter darkness consumed her and she could see nothing. She wished in that moment that she had Severus's voice to guide her through the pitch black and keep her calm. She crawled onwards, listening to the monster's grumbles get farther and farther away, relinquishing that it had lost her. Circe was just about to laugh for joy when her hand came down upon… nothing.

And she fell.

Down and down.

Her screams were silenced as she hit a great pool of water. A strong current carried her underwater as she thrashed about in the dark. She could not tell how far the waters carried her, but when she emerged, her head bobbed up in a strange low-ceilinged chamber. She gasped for air and gagged, the smell of human excrement hitting her. She looked to the ceiling above her and saw what she expected to see… a series of small, uniformly spaced holes in the space above her. Toilet holes.

_The girl's bathroom._

She splashed around, trying desperately not to think about what she was swimming in. Circe grabbed at one of the holes, pulling herself up and almost screamed anew when a cat-like face peered at her from the other side of the toilet hole.

"P-Professor?!" The cat stuttered at her.

Circe was completely lost for words. The situation she found herself in was beyond bizarre.

"Move." She simply said. The cat obliged and Circe raised her wand to cast another blasting spell. The toilet exploded upwards, creating a hole big enough for Circe to pull herself out of the sewage water through. The cat person extended an arm to help her to the surface but quickly withdrew it when she smelt the odour that rose from the hole with Circe. The cubicle floor was blasted open, and Circe pushed the stall's door open, dripping from head to foot. Again, she had expected to find the second floor girl's bathroom empty, but there on the other side of the stall stood an shocked-beyond-words Harry and Ron. Circe looked from Potter, to Weasley, to the cat person whom she assumed was Hermione, and they looked back at her. None there dared say a word.

 _Are… are they in Slytherin uniforms?_ Circe noted, adding to the ever growing list of oddities of the tableau she had just crawled in on. She sighed heavily, deciding that she didn't have the mental energy right now to deal with the absolute fuckery in front of her.

"You say nothing about me… and I'll look the other way here. Deal?" Circe said monotonously.

"Deal." The trio said.

Circe sighed once more and walked past the boys, her sopping clothes clinging to her body. She caught a whiff of herself and wretched. She realised she still held the diary she'd picked up in the tunnels in her hand, and let it wordlessly slip to the floor with a wet thud. Circe had just left the doorway of the bathroom when she almost collided headlong into a frantic-looking Severus, red faced and panting.

"Circe! Circe! Good God, what happened? Are you alr-" he ground to a halt as he caught her smell. "Oh, Jesus! I saw you fall into the septic tank on the map…" he covered his nose.

"Don't. Severus." She said through gritted teeth, trying not to look at him. She walked off, dumbstruck and mortified. "I'm going to find a shower…. or a hose."

"By yourself? Isn't the monster still about?"

"Then you can stand outside and keep watch."

He blanched and watched her walk away from him. Relieved as he was, the danger now passed, he couldn't help himself when he snorted with laughter…

 _The first time he's ever permitted himself to laugh in front of me._ She thought. _Of course it took me caked in shit and embarrassed to my core to make him laugh._

"Circe…" he chuckled.

"What, Severus?" She asked, turning back around to face him, stone faced.

"Aguamenti!"

Water hit her straight in the face, making her choke and splutter. She put her hands out in front of her, trying to stop the relentless stream.

"Oh fuck you! I hate you, Aunt Bessie!"

"Yes yes, now turn around. You have something in your hair…"

* * *

Circe sat on the desk, biting her nails and fiddling with her curls, next to where Severus stood. The CD she had on in the background just audible over the softly bubbling cauldron that Snape tended to. They were both in the cramped Potions storage cupboard, just like old times when Circe had worked with him in the department. His face was hidden in the rising smoke emerging from the potion before him and he was, for once, glad that the small space did not lend itself well to ventilation. He could watch her without fear of being caught staring…

It was mid afternoon. Lessons finished for the day. But Circe and Severus were still busy at work with monitoring the Restoration Draft. Her leg twitched nervously as she sat on the spare desk of the storage room. Trying to relax slightly at the end of the teaching day, she had untucked her white blouse from her trousers and her jacket sat discarded on the nearby chair. She looked far away in thought, internally punishing herself for what had recently transposed at Hogwarts.

"It's my fault, Severus." She said finally, swinging off the table. The Meatloaf CD that played skipped slightly at her sudden jolt of movement. They had only just recently graduated from the Walkman to a small player, now confident enough to listen to albums together and review them as they worked in the storage room. Today Circe was regaling him with the latest of her purchases when she had last gone home: Bat out of Hell : I I

"Professor, we've been through this already…"

"The monster let me slip away that night in the tunnels… It was angry it let me go. I pissed it off."

"Yes but that doesn't mean you're responsible for what happened to the Granger girl. Goodness knows she gets herself in enough trouble through associating with the Potter and the Weasley boy." Severus watched Circe bite her lip, not heeding his words at all. "Good God, is this song _still_ going?" he asked, referring to the CD player. They were now in the fourth minute of " I Would Do Anything For Love."

Hermione had been found petrified that morning. Not only was it a shock to find another victim, but this one close to Circe's heart, and now in broad daylight to boot. The attacker was getting braver, or more angry it seemed.

"Severus, I don't insult you with meaningless platitudes, so don't give them to me." Circe said, a little too shortly for Severus's liking. Circe closed her eyes and checked her temper. However awful she was feeling, it wasn't fair to take it out on Severus. His shoulders hunched over the cauldron and she could tell that he was a little hurt by what she'd said.

"So you're not enjoying Meatloaf then?" She said quickly, reaching out to him with a quick change in conversation.

"It's… Not really my style. Very dramatic." Severus had learned from his short time being a music enthusiast that there were some music artists that you admitted to liking, and some you didn't… This one he assumed was the latter. Fast cars, motorbikes, fire, leather, all very American. _Sirius would love it,_ he thought bitterly _._ He was rather surprised that Circe seemed to enjoy it given her more Brit-pop leanings.

"Oh but that's the beauty of it. How needlessly dramatic Jim Steinman can be. All of his songs are like mini operas, taking you on soaring emotional symphonies. None of this "radio edit" shite. If you're going to listen to Meatloaf, listen to all eight minutes of the song or not at all!"

"Hmm. Lyrically they're very good, I'll give him that… but what is _that_ thing that he won't do for love?"

" _Forget the way I feel right now._ I thought that was obvious."

"Not to me."

She laughed. "Yes it's not been worded particularly well, has it. I have a feeling people will be asking that question about this song for a very long time."

"I think this is another album that we will have to agree to disagree about." Severus concluded with a slight smirk.

Circe scoffed and rolled her eyes. Her face fell as her mind wandered back to the thing Severus had been trying to distract her from. "Minerva says that the governors are frantic now. Talking of closing the school."

"Yes, I have heard the same thing." Severus added, busying himself with stirring the Draft and checking the bottles of other ingredients laying nearby.

Circe had taken a break from tunnel exploring for the time being, especially after the outright terrifying events of her last endeavour underground. She felt like she'd only recently managed to wash the horrid smell from her hair...She instead concentrated her efforts for the time being into helping Severus with the mandrake potion. He had been right; it needed almost constant supervision to make sure it stayed potent, and they'd had to restart it twice already. A vital loss of time and also an incredibly disheartening experience. Circe watched Severus intently focused on the murky-brown, bubbling liquid in the cauldron. He had a look on his face when he was brewing a potion unlike any other time Circe had watched his stern features. It was something akin to when a man sees his lover on the pillow beside him first thing in the morning: soft, loving, attentive. His fingers closed around the pipette delicately and he moved as deftly as a dancer. Circe's stomach danced at the thought of what Severus might look like would it be her he woke up next to, those slender fingers caressing her collarbone. She had to look away from Snape's tender gaze before her slightly open, lustful mouth gave her away.

"I should have pegged something was up." Circe grumbled, pacing about the room, running a finger over the pickled and preserved jars on the shelves. "Especially after that whole cat face… thing. And why the bloody hell did she have a mirror on her? I really didn't think Hermione was the compact-carrying type."

"Oh will you stop whingeing and concentrate on what you can do _now."_ Severus said sharply. He had always been a pragmatic soul. It alarmed him that the school was on the brink of closure and the monster grew bolder with each day. But he also resolved to simply roll up his sleeves and carry on in whatever capacity he could. That attitude had served him well enough in the war, it would see him through now too. The time for sulking could come later. "Now come over here and watch how to add the mandrake sap properly."

Circe steeled herself and bunched up her hair into a messy ponytail hastily. She wanted to concentrate on the Draft, and her thick curls out of her face would help with that. If she fluffed up the potion again, Severus might eat her alive, as it had been under her watch that the bubbling liquid had turned sour before. She moved to Severus's side and he handed the pipette over to her, his slender fingers enclosing around hers for the briefest of seconds. Circe's stomach almost dropped out of her. _Oh, is this going to be another… moment?_ Their eyes met and the breath caught in her throat. The female voice at the end of the song came floating over them from the CD player.

" _Will you raise me up?_

_Will you help me down?_

_Will you get me right out of this Godforsaken town?_

_Will you make it all a little less cold?"_

Severus coughed and stepped to the side, letting Circe stand squarely in front of the cauldron.

"You need to add maybe a teaspoon worth at a time." He said in a low, husky voice. Circe squeezed the drip and a sizable amount of sap fell into the bubbling liquid.

"No, no… that's way too much!" Severus chided her. He moved to her back and encircled her in his arms, taking her hand that still held the pipette to help guide her.

" _Will you hold me sacred?_

_Will you hold me tight?_

_Can you colorize my life I'm so sick of black and white?_

_Can you make it all a little less old?"_

"You always either add too much or too little." He spoke softly into her ear. Circe felt his breath on her neck, hot and thrilling. She prayed that Severus could not see the goosebumps rising on her arms or the shiver that went down her spine. He was close, so close she could feel his warmth, and she relished in his nearness. The touch of his hand on top of hers was galvanizing.

"Let me show you…"

He squeezed the drip, guiding her hand and showing her the correct amount to decant.

" _Will you make me some magic with your own two hands?_

_Can you build an emerald city with these grains of sand?_

_Can you give me something I can take home?"_

Severus cast his eyes down her neck, her soft curls falling beautifully over her shoulders from her hastily made ponytail. Her movements were stiff and she was completely quiet under his touch. _Perhaps she's finally listening to me,_ he thought sarcastically to himself as his eyes gravitated down to the tops of her breasts, just visible through her slightly unbuttoned white blouse.

"Slowly, one drip at a time…" He purred, her perfume filling his senses once more as he leaned in close to her nape.

" _Will you cater to every fantasy I got?_

_Will you hose me down with holy water, if I get too hot?_

_Will you take me places I've never known?"_

Circe squeezed in a few drops and paused.

"No, too little this time…"

She let a few more drops fall from the instrument.

"There. Perfect."

"Ahemm...Am I interrupting something?"

Severus and Circe both jumped and wheeled around to face the voice at their backs. Standing on the threshold of the storage room was Lucius Malfoy. He raised a presumptuous brow at Snape and then turned his head slowly to Circe too. She felt herself blushing from her forehead to her chest under his withering gaze and she looked to her shoes.

"Lucius." Severus said levelly, recovering before she did. He reached desperately out towards the CD player, smashing the top with his fist and opening the tray. Silence fell over the room.

"Always nice to see a friend in such… happy circumstances." Lucius said, taking Severus's hand and shaking it firmly.

"To what do I owe this unannounced visit, Malfoy?" Severus asked. Circe watched the tenderness she had just experienced seconds ago vanish, replaced instantaneously by his trademark hard-as-nails haughtiness. Lucius smirked in a way that turned Circe's stomach. _God, Draco is the absolute spit of him._ Circe thought, casting her eye over Malfoy's silvery-blonde hair and the same cold, cruel eyes he had given his son.

"Now, now Severus. It is only polite that I be introduced to your guest first." Lucius purred, placing his hand on Severus's chest and pushing him gently to the side.

"Circe. Smith." She responded, trying to muster her confidence. "I teach Ancient Studies."

"Ah yes, I recall seeing your name on Draco's school reports." He extended a gloved hand, waiting patiently for Circe to place her own within it. When she hesitantly did, he tugged her close with a startling show of force. "I believe you wrote that Draco 'must re-address his attitude to learning if he is to succeed'. Frightfully provocational, Miss Smith."

"Yes," Circe replied confidently, refusing to be intimidated. "I'm afraid there is a cap on what Mr Malfoy can achieve when he bullies Mr Crabbe and Mr Goyle into doing his assessments for him." she replied tartly, yanking her hand from his. Severus smirked and tried to hide his mouth with a sleeve. Lucius, on the other hand, snarled at her.

"Malfoy, what brings you here?" Severus asked again, stepping in between him and Circe like a boxing referee.

"Some good news. I thought it may interest you to know of the decision the govenors made last night in regards to the … difficult situation Hogwarts currently finds itself in."

"And what decision is that?"

Lucius cast a sideways glance at Circe, who folded her arms resolutely as if to say _I'm going nowhere._ He raised a brow at Severus and he remained stone-faced and still. _Anything you say, you can tell it to us both._

Lucius sighed and rolled his eyes. "Myself and the governors have decided that it is time for Headmaster Dumbledore to step aside, considering his inaction with regard to these attacks on muggle-born students."

"What?" Circe almost screeched. "Dumbledore's done everything he can. _I've_ done everything I can!"

"And what, pray tell, have you achieved since these attacks began, Professor Smith? Have your efforts surmounted to _any_ useful results?"

Circe flinched, Malfoy's words striking home. He was right. She felt like she'd made a breakthrough since Christmas, but had she really? Children were still being attacked. And all she'd done recently was go running about the pipes like some ridiculous real-life Mario game.

"And how soon can we expect this decision to take effect?" Severus asked.

"I meet with the Minister and Dumbledore tonight, hence why you find me here." Lucius stated with his sickly smirk plastered all over his face.

Circe's head was reeling. She turned from Severus and Lucius in a vain attempt to hide her shock and horror. Everybody's days in the castle would be numbered if Dumbledore was gone.

"Oh, and of course me and the Minister are men of action. So we intend to arrest the person apprehended for the attacks that last happened here some fifty years ago."

"What?" Circe said, turning back to Malfoy pointedly. "Who?! They're here?!" She said, utterly flabbergasted.

"Why yes. I would rather have thought Dumbledore would have informed you of that great lolloping oaf Hagrid's previous convictions."

"H-Hagrid?!"

"Oh dear, quite ignorant of the facts aren't you." Lucius quipped.

 _No record of an arrest in The Prophet because he was too young to stand trial…_ she thought morosely.

Severus too seemed equally lost for words. He watched Circe, almost close to tears, grappling with Malfoy's revelations.

"Well, I best be going." Malfoy concluded politely. "Business to attend to. I left your most recent letter arrivals at Spinner's End on your desk, Severus."

Snape nodded his thanks to him curtly. "Malfoy."

"Professor Snape. Professor Smith." He nodded to them both, before sweeping elegantly from the room.

Severus and Circe stood in silence for a long while. He didn't quite know what to say, fiddling with the cuff of his doublet. He looked up from his boots when he heard Circe sniffing beside him.

"Circe-"

"It's not him, Severus. It can't be. He couldn't…"

"No, I don't believe so either."

"And that person I saw running around the tunnels… that wasn't him. It was a kid."

"That still doesn't narrow down the suspect list to anything useful."

 _There's that word again. The one Malfoy used too. 'Useful useful useful". The thing you've failed to be all fucking year, you stupid girl._ Circe thought, brutalizing herself.

"Then what do we do?" She asked desperately, turning to him. Frustrated, hot tears were streamed down her face and his heart ached at seeing her cry. "Especially as Dumbledore's on the way out." She muttered, grabbing a fist of her hair.

"What we can." He said firmly, grabbing her wrist. "Continue with the Draft. Carry on exploring the tunnels. We don't lose focus.". He let go over her when he saw that his words had reached her. Circe's green eyes glistened like emeralds, beautiful and shining in their sadness. He delved into one of his many pockets and produced a hankie for her. Something his mother had always taught him to have on him…

She nodded solemnly and took it from Severus, drying her eyes. "I think our time for success is rapidly running out, Severus."

"Then… we work. As hard as if the Vampires of Romania were on our backs!"

 _And we haven't been already?_ Circe thought to herself woefully as she stared vacantly into the softly bubbling potion still sat on the workbench.


	16. "Like a sinner before the gates of Heaven"

Had the tunnels been this dark before? 

Had they been so cramped and cold? 

Had Circe really been unbothered by their narrowness or the labyrinthian twists and turns? 

Circe’s hands were shaking in her pockets. She breathed levelly and deeply, trying to settle her nerves. She counted the seconds breathing in, and then the same out. Anything to keep her mind occupied and off the panic-inducing thing she had run into the last time she had traversed these halls. No walkie-talkie; it couldn’t be risked, given the noise it made. Circe too kept her footfall as light as she could, flinching every time the puddles beneath her feet splashed a little too loudly. She came to the girl’s bathroom turnoff once again, and saw the hole she had blasted through the rubble last time. She thought too of the wish that had passed through her head when she’d crawled through the space: wishing Severus’s voice had been with her in the dark. 

Severus had forbade her to return to the tunnels after Malfoy’s revelations. It had resulted in a rip roaring argument sparking off between the two of them. Circe had protested that no one “forbade” her to do anything, especially when it could help bring Hogwarts back to peace and safety. Severus almost had her making an unbreakable vow with him, had it not been for Circe’s utter refusal to oblige. Luckily for her, the mandrake draft kept him busy when he was not teaching, and he could not keep a watch over her all seconds of the day  _ and  _ continue brewing. Circe had tried to oblige Severus, but that morning she had been almost moved to tears during the staff meeting when Dumbledore was strangely absent. That afternoon, when it had been her shift to tend to the Draft, she’d gone rifling through Severus’s desk until she found the enchanted map of the tunnels he had created. She saw her name hovering near the “stop” they’d nicknamed “Paddington”, the small drain on the floor of the potions storeroom showing her where the “stop” was. Knowing Severus would know exactly where she was if she even chose to step near a pipe, she regarded the map with bitterness. And then she’d promptly set fire to it. 

A quick lie to Severus when they’d passed one another on their change of shift had sealed her fate for the evening; He believed her to be gone from Hogwarts for the weekend, away with Myron for a gig. 

“Here, more music homework for you.” Circe had smiled at him, trying to diffuse the tension that lay between them, handing him a CD of the first ‘Bat Out of Hell’ album. A last attempt to keep Severus’s attention on something else. 

_ By the time he even thinks to check his draws it’ll be too late.  _ She thought.  _ But if I run into any trouble, I’m fucked…  _

Yet she was sure the answers she wanted lay in the girl’s bathroom somewhere. They had to. The pipes had taken her there last time, so the only route down to The Chamber must continue on from there. She’d exhausted all other possible routes. It had to be there.

  
  


She crawled on hands and knees again, feeling tentatively for the fall that took her to the septic tank underneath the girl’s bathroom last time. Her tips found the crest and she stopped. Reaching around in the darkness for a small stone, she threw it off the ledge and listened for the plop. It came much sooner than she’d expected it to. Perhaps the suddenness of the fall last time had made it seem longer than it was, or perhaps it was flooded again.  _ Myrtle likes to flood the bathrooms... _ No matter what the reason was, it was close, so close that she thought she could jump down. But like hell was she going to willingly throw herself into human waste again. 

She took out her wand and cast a spell into where she hoped the water was. “Glacius!” 

She felt the spell’s magic travel down her arm and whizz off into the darkness. Circe swung her legs over the drop in front of her and sucked in a long breath. 

_ Well, I’ll either dive straight back into human waste again… or I’ve completely misjudged how big the fall is and I’ll break my legs.  _ She didn’t wait to consider these two options too closely, just in case she lost her nerve and bottled out. She jumped.

Circe let out a small yelp as her feet touched a hard cold surface. She had to bend her knees heavily to take the fall, but survive the fall unscathed she did. She touched a hand to the surface she had landed on: solid and chilly to the touch, like an ice rink.  _ My freezing spell worked.  _ She thought triumphantly, allowing herself a small smile. She drew her wand from her pocket and illuminated the space around her. Thankful to finally have light again, she set about exploring the small chamber she found herself in. It was quite large, almost as large as Circe’s classroom, but from out of the now frozen water she could see a series of thick columns rising to the ceiling. It almost looked like the inside of a cathedral. She tiptoed forward into the gloom until she came across the holes in the ceiling leading to the toilet stalls she remembered from her last smelly excursion. She could hear Myrtle whingeing and whimpering in the space above her and decided to carry on exploring. 

She walked the perimeter of the room carefully, finding little else of consequence. Eventually she gravitated back to the thick columns interspersed throughout the septic tank. They looked old. Rusted and flaking with age. Some of the “lines” she had explored with Severus were big, these were massive. At least ten foot wide, and they rose vertically: impossible for her to have walked along as she had done with the others, and Circe would not have been a fan of abseiling down them… She knew that they must extend down, way down to the subterranean floors of the castle. She touched an ear to some of them, listening carefully and hearing the babbling of running water.  _ Still in use then.  _ Circe thought. She came to one last vertical pipe and again listened for the rush of water within, but this time she heard nothing _.  _ She scrunched up her face in puzzlement, wondering why this pipe out of all the others that came from the bathroom above was empty. She tried mentally plotting out the layout of the bathroom above her, trying to figure out where on the floor plan this pipe sat.  _ Just under the sinks, maybe. You definitely need a working pipe to drain the sinks. Now that is odd…  _

Her eyes widened as realisation dawned on her. 

_ This is it. The pipe that leads to the Chamber of Secrets... _

  
  


Her thoughts were cut short when a great shiver from within the thick pipe made Circe jump back in trepidation. Something was moving inside it. Circe covered her mouth with her hand to stop herself from screaming as she watched the thick metal tube rattle and warp from whatever shifted inside it. It creaked and groaned, the sounds like tiny screams in the cavernous chamber around her. 

_ The monster!  _

She stood as still as she could. Her eyes following the wet slithering noise the creature made in the bathroom above her. She thanked the stroke of good luck that had put a floor between her and the creature, hiding her from its sight. The monster growled deeply, sending another shockwave of terror through Circe, pulling at her vocal cords again, telling her to scream. She scrunched her eyes tight and fought the primal instinct telling her to cry out, waiting for the monster to slip away… when silence did fall over the chamber again, and Circe was sure the monster was nowhere near, she let out a choked sob and ran back to the crawling tunnel that had led her to the septic tank.

_ I've got to get out... I’ve gotta get out of here now. _

After hoisting herself out of the septic tank chamber, Circe ran like a demon breaking out of hell down the “Jubilee line”. She was not in the best of places for “stops” again in the network of tunnels. There were plenty of small grates, showing her tantalizing sections of the surface, but none big enough for her to fit through. She slowed to a jog, the mind fog of panic taking control of her head again, just as it had done when she’d confronted Fluffy with Severus. 

_ Oh god, Severus… he will never forgive himself if I’m gone by the time morning comes. Fuck, I could really have used him on the other end of the walkie-talkie about now.  _

She came to a standstill just outside of “Maida Vale”: A small, barred opening near the hospital wing just wide enough for Circe to stand on her tiptoes and look out at the school’s corridor at shoe height. She clasps her hands around the bar and shook it violently. Even if she did manage to tear the iron bars off it, it was only a foot wide. There was no way she could make her way out this way. 

_ Come on, Circe. Remember what Severus said last time: try to stop panicking. Control the fight or flight. _

Circe spotted two sets of approaching black school shoes just outside of the opening, making her halt her desperate shaking and step back. She could not see their faces from the angle where she stood but as they approached unknowingly closer to her she recognized their voices well enough… Harry and Ron. 

“.... this is it. This is the answer. From the paper that was in Hermione‘s hand.” 

Circe listened closely, catching the tail end of their conversation. She heard one of them close the doors to the hospital wing and run to the other’s side. The two boys stopped just outside of the opening where Circe was concealed. One pair of scraggy scuffed school shoes, and one pair of slightly nicer, newer shoes. 

“What answer? What does it say?” The scraggy shoes said, presumably Weasley. 

“Basilisk. King of the Serpents. This snake can reach gigantic sizes and live for many hundreds of years. It’s methods of killing involve it’s deadly and venomous fangs and its murderous stare. All who are fixed with the beam of it shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before it for it is their mortal enemy.” Potter read, and Circe heard the crunch of paper from above. 

“Harry, that’s it that’s the answer. The monster from the Chamber is a Basilisk.” 

“That’s why I heard the voices that night in Lockhart’s detention. It’s because I understand parseltongue.” 

_ Parsel-what?  _ Circe thought to herself as she listened from her hiding spot. 

“It’s a snake, and I can talk to snakes.” 

_ Ah…  _

“But Harry, If the basilisk kills by looking you in the eye then why hasn’t anybody died?” 

_ Oh come on, Ron. Get there quicker. It’s because nobody has-  _

“Because nobody has looked it in the eye. Colin saw it through his camera lens, Justin saw it through Nearly Headless Nick, Nick got the full blast but he can’t die  _ again _ , and Hermione had the mirror.” 

Circe silently applauded Potter from her hiding spot. 

“So how’s it been getting around the place? Great big rollocking snake like that …?” The two sets of shoes began to walk away, the voices getting quieter with each step. 

“Can you see what Hermione’s written here…” 

“Huh! Yeah, that makes sense. She must be on the same discovery path too…” 

Circe peered out at the boys as they walked away, wishing she could have seen what note Granger had made on the paper.  _ How are these three running rings around me again?  _ Circe thought with a snort. 

She saw Ron suddenly grab Harry by the arm. “The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets! What if it’s near that bathroom? What if it’s in…” 

_ Moaning Myrtle’s Bathroom. Yeah I got to that one first, you meddling kids.  _ Circe’s stuck her tongue out at them childishly. 

Whatever Harry and Ron said next was lost in the long, droning alarm that reverberated off Hogwarts walls. The alarm for an attack. Circe started and saw the boys scurry away out of her sight. The sound also made her take stock of the situation she was still in. She was still in the pipes, and the monster was still about. Basilisk. She knew its name now. And she knew it was deadly… 

Minerva‘s voice came over the tannoy, “All students return to the house dormitories at once. All teachers to the second floor corridor immediately please.” 

_ Oh no, whatever can this mean? I’ll have to fess up to Severus that I lied about being off site, but at least I can tell him now of what I found.  _

Circe turned on her heels to continue her search for an opening big enough for her to get to the surface. Her heart jumped into her mouth when she saw Ginny Weasley, standing motionlessly before her. 

“Ginny…” Circe asked gently. But the rest of her words died within her as she looked at the girl. Ginny looked up at Circe with white, pupil-less eyes, her small mouth hanging open gormlessly.  _ Possessed.  _

“Ginny…” she said again. Circe tried reaching out to her, but stopped dead when an evil smile bloomed across the girl’s face. Circe began to back away from her slowly, fright gripping her whole being once more. Ginny muttered some low, guttural hissing sounds and Circe whimpered when she heard a familiar wet slithering noise in the tunnels nearby. The monster had been summoned for her, ready to catch the one it had reluctantly let escape before. Circe began to hyperventilate, terror turning her legs to wood. But then a voice of clarity broke through her panic like sunshine through the clouds, speaking softly to her from within her own mind. The directions of what she had to do suddenly came to her as clear as day... in Severus’s voice: 

_ Take the Jubilee line down to Charing Cross. Turn right. Follow Bakerloo to Holborn. Second left. Run fast. Don’t look back.  _

Circe nodded to herself, turned and did as Snape told her to. 

* * *

Severus had been slightly shocked by Circe’s parting gift that evening. He thought he had made it clear that he didn’t really like Meatloaf that much. Yet still, he turned the CD over in his hands as he stirred the mandrake potion with the other.  _ An emotional symphony…  _ he thought, remembering the phrasing Circe had used the last time they had listened together. A small smile pulled at his lips and he suddenly realised how empty and lacking the storage room felt without her. Perhaps he liked it more than he cared to admit to her.

He cast a wary eye back to the door of the storage room, double checking to make sure he was not going to be caught enjoying it again, and placed the CD in the player. But just as he closed the lid, he was interrupted by the shrill, long notes of the alarm system. He heard Minerva’s instructions and rushed from the room to be wherever he had been summoned to be, turning down the cauldron fire to a simmer but leaving the CD player still going… 

* * *

Circe was still frantically running the length of the “Bakerloo line” when she heard the distant sound of music floating through the tunnels. At first she wasn’t sure that it was music, sounding eerie and ethereal as it bounced off the stones. All she had heard until then, while she fled the basilisk, was the crunching slither and vicious growls of the beast gaining on her. Her heart still pumped in her chest, the beat relentlessly driving her on, punctuating the mantra she had been repeating to herself as she’d run from Ginny. 

_ I am not dying at the bottom of this godforsaken pipe.  _

She realized why, when her panic had cleared, her mind had led her to this part of the network.  __ She was close to “Paddington”, Severus’s dungeons, and perhaps if she managed to reach him then she could shout through the grate in his storage room and let him know she needed help. Perhaps she had managed to lose the monster. She could not hear it as clearly or closely as it once had been. The noise she could hear now was the distant, far off music… screeching guitars and what sounded like the revving of a motorbike engine. 

_ Bat out of hell! Severus is there!  _

“Severus! SEVERUS!” She shouted, hoping that he would be able to hear her over the music. But it was now quiet. Too quiet. The pipe to “Paddington” lay dark and lengthy before her. Still and heavy with its noiselessness. Her instinct told her to stop. 

Then, emerging from an opening to the left, Circe saw the many teethed snout of the monster. Terror soared in her veins and she doubled back on herself quickly, turning away from it before it had a chance to fix her in its stare. The path to Severus now blocked, despair sank into the pit of her stomach like a heavy stone. 

_ Shit, what do I do now? It snuck up on me. It trapped me. _

A great guttural growl vibrated off the stones behind her. The basilisk was now so close she could feel the hot lick of its breath on her hair. She instinctively began turning around to peer back at the monster, to see how close to her it was. 

_ No! Don’t look! Don’t look at it!  _ She checked herself.  _ Just run…  _

She felt the beast lurching at her, and she did her best to dodge and weave out of its way. But it was only a matter of time before her luck ran out. Her best option now was to look for something, anything that might shield her from the beast. An alcove or a pipe that was too small for the creature to follow her into. Evade it like she had last time. Circe eventually came back to the “stop” in Gilderoy’s classroom, her throat raw and ragged from her furious panting. It was exactly what she had been looking for. A small, narrow tunnel that she had to stoop to fit through, but maybe only 5 foot long maximum. As she ran to it doubt flashed through her mind; it was much wider than the tunnel to the girls bathroom that she had hid in before, more a dugout than a tunnel, and if she didn’t pull her legs in behind her quick enough the monster might still catch her feet. Still, it was all she had. It was this or nothing. 

She threw herself bodily into the alcove and drew her legs in behind her. She pressed herself as close to the barred grate at the far end of the tunnel that she could, the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom completely empty on the other side. She bunched herself up as small as she could, looking back to the entrance, praying that it was small enough to stop the creature from following her. The basilisk roared and snapped its great jaws at Circe, but came to a shuddering, painful stop as it butted its head on the bricks above her. It chomped furiously at her, able to fit part of its head or a fraction of its jaw through the opening, but not all. Circe sobbed loudly, burying her head in her folded legs, only able to listen to the vicious, but futile attack of the monster mere inches from her feet. Realising Circe had escaped again, it peered at her through the narrow space, its yellow eyes murderous and rageful. The basilisk went quiet, stopping its feral snarls and bites, hoping to draw Circe’s gaze away from her shielding arms towards it. But Circe did not move, her head still buried in her knees as she sobbed loudly. 

_ Don’t look! Don’t look! Don’t look!  _ She repeated resolutely in her head. 

The monster roared in incandescent rage, fanning Circe again with its hot breath. She screamed louder, but still kept her arms clamped tightly around her head and knees. She felt it back away and for a moment she prayed that the thing had decided to leave her alone…

…. Until she heard it slam the whole of its massive hulking body against the tunnel’s stones. 

If it could not kill her with venom, or with its stare, then it was content to have her crushed to death.  _ Oh God, a cave in. Just like Severus said.  _ Circe felt the very stones she sat on shift and dust from the ceiling above drop onto her head. 

The Basilisk slammed bodily into the stones again and this time achieved the tunnel collapse that it wanted. Circe just had time to cry for help and reach an arm through the bars of the opening, before a series of sizeable rocks fell on top of her, knocking her out cold and burying her alive. The only thing visible from the classroom was her small, outstretched hand still reaching for aid. Torn, twisted and motionless. 

* * *

Severus rolled his eyes at Gilderoy. There he went again, bleating away about his own brilliance. All the while the other staff members stared in horror at the most recent message the attacker had left. 

“Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.” 

A girl had been snatched by the monster, and he was Lockhart taking the opportunity to show off yet again. The man made him feel sick. He couldn’t believe the nerve of him, spouting off about how he knew exactly where the Chamber was, and how he could have rescued the girl from abduction. It was almost as if he spat in the face of all Circe and he had done that year… especially Circe. He looked around for Circe to pass a sardonic look with, but realized with disappointment that she wasn’t present. His chest tightened as he recalled what she had told him. 

_ Out of office until Sunday night. I wonder if I should contact her? She’d want to be back here if she knew this had happened.  _

He watched Lockhart pacing up and down the length of the wall like some detective sleuth. He remembered well the discomfort and pain this man had caused Circe. He had overheard much more of their conversation in her classroom than he had originally let on, and he wanted to do something for her to help get her own back. And with her not being here, he could lend his assistance without exposing the tender spot he held for her to her face. He decided to have a little bit of fun with Gilderoy.

“Well Gilderoy, you are just the very man we need.”

“What was that, Professor Snape?” He asked nervously. 

“If the Weasley girl has indeed been snatched by the monster, then this is your moment. Have you not been saying all along that you know exactly where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is?” 

Minerva saddled up next to Severus and gripped his arm tightly. She cast him a side long look and muttered “Stop it…” to him. Acting Headmaster as she was, she was trying her best to keep the peace between her staff. Not willing to watch them tear each other apart in this moment of crisis. 

Severus wriggled from her grasp and continued. “Yes, I believe you said in our staff meeting this morning that you believe the whole affair has been bungled and that you should have been given a free reign from the first.” 

Minerva managed to plant her heel firmly into Severus’s foot. He yelped and hobbled away, finally silenced by her. 

“We shall leave you to it then, Gilderoy.“ Said Mcgonagall. “Tonight you finally have an opportunity to prove yourself. Perhaps even garner some material to write your next book.” She purses her lips and raised a thin brow at Lockhart. He himself looking pale and weedy. 

After Lockart had made his weak excuses, telling everyone he was off to “prepare” himself for his adventure down to the Chamber, she rounded on Severus with a steely glare. 

“Severus, really…“ she chastised him. 

“Oh come now, you know he deserved it. He practically undermined everything Professor Smith has worked towards all year.” Severus replied, rubbing his foot. 

“Perhaps. You are quite keen to come to the defence of her honour…” she added curtly, watching his reaction acutely. When he shifted uncomfortably on his feet and avoided her gaze, she continued. “At least he’s out from under our feet. I’m afraid we’ll have to start the evacuation as soon as possible….”

“Evacuation?” 

“Why yes. We have to get the students home as quickly as possible. We can no longer guarantee their safety here so it is quite impossible that we can keep Hogwarts open. I shall have to use the student records in Dumbledore’s office to start contacting home… .” 

The short lived happiness that Severus had gained from embarrassing Lockhart died within him, replaced by the realisation that the very thing that he and Circe had been working so hard to avoid was finally coming to be. 

“Professor Smith will be disappointed. All her work this year will have surmounted to nought. And she’s not even here to see the bitter end.”

“What do you mean, not here?” 

“She… Left this afternoon to return home for the weekend. She told me.” 

“No… She’s here. Her possessions are still in her room.”

Snape furrowed his brow, deeply puzzled. “If she is still on site, then why isn’t she here?“

“Well, given how bad she’s been this year with adhering to the role call, I assumed she was still in the library. Or perhaps with you, tending to the Restoration Draft.” 

_ Oh, God… she hasn’t…  _

Comprehension hit Severus all at once. He turned from Minerva quickly to run back to his storeroom. Mcgonagall called after him, but he did not stop to heed her. The same icy nausea that he had felt the first time she had been absent from the rollcall sent his guts into a tangle. But this time, there was the underlying feeling of hurt and betrayal. 

_ She lied to me.  _ He realised. If she’s  _ gone to explore the tunnels by herself, the stupid girl, I will bloody well eviscerate her.  _

He flung open the storeroom door with a crash, sending a few bottles of ingredients on the shelves rattling precariously _.  _ Bat Out of Hell still played on the CD player, yet he paid it no heed. He delved into his desk drawer, searching for the map he had painstakingly drawn to help her. After a few minutes of frantic searching, throwing useless bits of paper around the room out of his way and upending the drawers, sending their contents spilling out onto the desk, he still could not find it. 

His breath grew ragged with fear and he broke out into a cold sweat. After a moment of thought he reluctantly turned to the waste paper bin placed in the corner, and there, no more than flakes of ash and a few black scorched remnants, was his map. He frantically delved through the bin, desperately picking up the few remaining pieces that weren’t cinders, his hands shaking. 

_ No, Circe… No! Why did you do that? Why did you do that!?  _ He felt close to tears, his world collapsing in around him. 


	17. "Oh no I've said too much, I haven't said enough."

Chapter 17 - "Oh no I've said too much, I haven't said enough"

Gilderoy was power-walking to his office, outwardly trying to appear calm, but his mind ticking through his plan of escape.

_If I pack my things up quick smart, I can be out of here before anyone comes looking for me._

He knew that he had to be speedy. He'd rather talked himself into a corner, and now the staff expected him to find the Chamber and rescue the Weasley girl. Once again, his gift of the gab could only take him so far. Now he was expected to follow through on his boasts and promises, his compulsive lying getting him into trouble once again.

Perhaps it was time to disappear again. Lay low for a while. Hide from the web of lies he had spun for himself at Hogwarts.

_Everywhere you go, you do this Gilderoy…._

_Lie yourself into a hole and then you have to cover yourself with more lies._

Everything he wanted to be: brave, reliable, resourceful, admirable, he'd taken from the exploits of other wizards. It all stemmed from a deep place of inadequacy and low self-esteem. He himself believed that he wasn't interesting enough for people to like alone, so he had to lie to compensate for it. And when he'd started writing, putting his fanciful tales to paper, it had become all the more difficult to stop. He'd made money from it, after all. It paid to keep up the pretence.

_You have to stop this… one day. How many people have you hurt with your lies, Gilderoy? How many more does there need to be?_

He was almost at his classroom. Having already decided what to take and what to leave behind in his desperate flight. Every moment he had counted. It was only a matter of time before someone, expecting something heroic and dashing, came looking for him. He pushed open his classroom door with a thud and came grinding to a halt as the door jutted and skipped over rubble and stones on his floor. He looked to the ground, confused at the mess of pebbles and grit there.

 _What in the blaises…._ Gilderoy thought as he tiptoed over the mess. His eyes then fell on the outstretched hand of Circe, just visible through what he had always assumed to have been an air grate, close to the floor.

His eyes grew wide as he crouched down to inspect it further, seeing that she was buried under a considerable amount of stone and rubble. He extended a wary finger and poked at her, almost jumping out of his skin when Circe's fingers responded to his touch. He stood up straight and placed his hands on his hips. Lockhart looked to his study above the classroom, and then back to Circe's now motionless hand. He could leave her, carry on regardless with his plan and flee headlong into the night. Every second he spent lingering was a moment closer to somebody coming to find him.

_But is that the person you want to be, Gilderoy? Come on. Do something right for the first time in your life. Something you yourself did… not cribbed from someone else…_

"Oh, fuck it…"

He fell to his knees again, pulling away armfuls of stones from her at a time. He snapped the bars away, flinging them hastily to the side, and carried on scooping away at the rubble until he had freed Circe's whole arm. He frantically hurled the stones away from her until her battered and bruised face emerged from the mess. A sizable cut ran down the left side of her face from the edge of her brow to the top of her cheekbone.

"Circe… Circe!" He sputtered, grabbing her cheeks and shaking her awake. When she moaned and opened a bleary eye to him he sighed in relief. He leaned in close to her. "Here, put your arms around my neck and don't let go. I'll try and drag you free."

She could just about hang on to his words, her head thumping with pain and dizziness. The last thing she remembered was something hard striking her on the temple after the Basilisk had slammed its body into her tunnel. Next, her world had gone black. Beaten, bloody, and semi-conscious as she was, she did as Gilderoy commanded and locked her hands around his neck, hanging on with the little remaining strength she had. Gilderoy heaved, pushing back and dragging her body free from the collapsed tunnel.

As Gilderoy scooped her up into his arms, she slipped back into unconsciousness again.

"Oh, Circe… don't go limp on me now!" He shouted, trying to shake her awake. She mumbled and groaned under his jolts.

 _I don't have time for this…_ Gilderoy thought. He carried her up the stairs to his office, groaning under her weight. As he kicked open the door, he lay her out onto the desk. Gilderoy set about moving from place to place in the office, grabbing his books, pictures, clothes… anything he could lay his hands on. He opened his travel trunk and began frantically throwing the contents inside it out of it.

_Oh goodness… much less space than I thought. I need to think about this. I need the desk to put what I want to take on it… Think about what things will make the final cut..._

He cast an eye back to Circe on the desk and scooped her up again, placing her inside the trunk. Gilderoy continued his frantic packing, moving about the room with frightening speed, placing what he wanted on the desk. He reached up to a bookshelf, trying to grab a favorite portrait of himself that he'd sat for his first interview with Witch Weekly. The picture sat on the wall behind Circe in the trunk and as he stumbled towards it, he nudged his thigh into the case, sending the lid slamming shut over Circe and she groaned in protest.

"Professor Lockhart…"

Gilderoy squealed in alarm as he halted sharply in his tracks and saw Potter and Weasley looking expectantly at him.

From the darkness within the trunk, Circe heard Harry and Ron in conversation with Lockhart. The pain in her head was excruciating and she was too weak to even attempt to move. Their voices were muffled and distant and she struggled to grasp what the line of their conversation was as she drifted in and out of consciousness.

"...Professor, are you going somewhere…"

.

.

"... what about my sister?!"

.

.

"...Books can be misleading, my boy…."

.

.

"... you're a fraud…"

.

.

".. well, I am rather gifted with memory charms."

.

.

"... Don't even think about it."

.

.

"... you're coming to the Chamber with us."

As the room went quiet, Circe passed into a restless sleep again, still bundled unceremoniously inside Gilderoy's trunk. Unable to stand up. Unable to even push open the lid again. She could feel the blood running down her head and past her neck and she knew she needed help. And soon.

* * *

Severus was trying to hold himself together. He was sweating profusely from within the pipes of Hogwarts's plumbing network, concentrating wholeheartedly on not lapsing into a full-blown panic attack. In his head, he was calling Circe all the vicious names under the sun for putting him in this position. Yet his chest still ached with worry as he scoured every dark and dismal corner for her. From his position on the surface, he hadn't garnered such an in-depth knowledge of the tunnel's layout as Circe had. So he had resorted to marking the walls with a small "X" of chalk from his classroom as he went, indicating where he had been so he didn't walk in circles.

_Where are you?_

He could see his hand shaking before him as he held his wand out into the gloom. His anger at himself peaked and he cursed his father's name for causing him another deep, invisible scar. Every cell of his being was telling him to shrink, become as small as possible and cower in fear in a damp corner. He hadn't felt so meek and weak for years, and he loathed himself for it. He had faced dangers more deadly and destructive than these tunnels, but none that pulled at such an old and primal fear…

Fear of a small, hot cupboard in the kitchen of Spinner's End.

His father's slamming fists on the door.

His mother's fruitless cries.

 _Get a grip, old man._ He thought, trying to shock himself out of his spiralling thoughts. _You aren't nine. You aren't at Spinner's End. You aren't helpless._

Severus came to a junction that he half recognised. A look to the left and he saw one of his chalk "X"s, indicating he had already walked that route. He turned to the right. Severus turned a corner and emerged into a long pipe that trailed on for many many meters before him. He paused, listening for a noise beyond the drip of distant water and his short, sharp breaths. Peering into the gloom, his eyes fell upon something strange. He spied a small pile of stones lying in the pipe some thirty meters away from where he stood and walked briskly over to it. He cast his wand from the ground up to the ceiling, investigating the scene.

_A tunnel cave in!_

An instinct within Severus told him that Circe had been here when the tunnel had come down, and his heart sank. He dropped to the floor, shoving rocks and stones to the side as his chest grew tight. His panting became more desperate and ragged as his desperation grew. He drew his wand out and cast a grand levitation spell. In moments, a number of stones lifted up into the air and he cast them aside with a crash. A wave of relief settled over him as the stones did not reveal Circe beneath them, instead showing him the exit to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom on the other side. The "stop", normally only a few feet wide, had crumbled away until it was wide enough for an adult to fit through. Without hesitation, Severus scrabbled over the stones and pulled himself through the hole into Gilderoy's classroom.

He huffed and heaved, but eventually found himself standing back on the surface in the open air. He lay on his back and gasped as his eyes filled with tears of relief. Yet he knew he could not know full peace until he had found her.

"Circe…?! Circe?! Are you here?!" He shouted out into the empty classroom, pulling himself to his feet. He marched up and down the rows of desks, his eyes still searching for her. Silence greeted him and he thought that his instincts may have been wrong and she wasn't here after all… _But the disturbance in the tunnel… the cave in…_ he thought, jogging up the spiral stairs to Lockhart's office.

"Circe!" He called out again. The echo of his own voice reverberating through the empty office tauntingly back at him.

He would have been about to scream out in rage, had he not heard the dull thump on the other side of Gilderoy's trunk. He stepped swiftly over to it and flung back the lid, and there she was. She looked up at him through heavy eyelids, her face a mess of blood and dirt. She reached out weakly to him with a mumble and he lifted her up into his arms without hesitation. Severus gripped her tightly to him for a moment, finally feeling solace and calmness again as he held her.

"It's alright… it's alright…" he whispered to her as he lay her back on the desk. She could not even sit up straight, laying flat on the surface. He touched a hand to the wound on her face and sucked in his breath sharply. It was a bad blow. And it was a small wonder she was even semi-conscious now. Severus delved into one of his many pockets and pulled out a small flask. He unstoppered it and poured the liquid over the cut on her temple.

"There we are… there we are…" he cooed softly, watching the wound close up before him. Circe groaned and opened her eyes, as if finally waking up from a dream that had refused to let her rise. "Sit up slowly.. that's it." He instructed gently, pushing her up, his hand at the small of her back.

"Fuck me sideways…" she muttered, reeling from side to side. Severus kept her from toppling, but couldn't help but scoff at her first words of consciousness.

"What is your full name?"

"Uhhh…. Circe Sylvia Florence Smith" she answered.

"When's your birthday?"

"Thirty first of October."

"What year?"

"Every year, Severus."

He laughed, satisfied that she was not brain-damaged or concussed. Circe's head ached and she touched a hand to her temple, feeling the slick blood under her fingers. Her glasses were cracked and shattered and she removed them from her face, tutting. Her eyes eventually travelled back to Severus, who still held her upright with his hand at her back.

"Oh, Severus…" she breathed, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. He stiffened awkwardly at her embrace, but finally relaxed, burying his face into her bronze curls and running his hand up her back.

"What did you do?" She asked quietly. "I could barely even stay awake before."

He pulled away from her sharply, holding up the empty flask he had administered to her head. "Essence of Dittany. I decided it would be good to have some handy after you fell into the septic tank..."

"God, I feel like I've just gone ten rounds with Rocky Balboa."

"Who?"

"Never mind."

Severus let go of her and Circe almost collapsed back down onto the desk without his hands holding her up. "What happened? In the tunnels?" He asked, his expression becoming grave.

"The monster…. the Basilisk. It… it caused a tunnel collapse and buried me alive."

"A Basilisk? Surely not…"

She nodded slowly back at him. The palpable fear in her eyes enough to convince him of the truth.

"And you… You lied to me. You told me that you were not going to be here tonight and you burned the map." His lips were a thin line. His jaw clenched tight as his anger at her bristled inside him.

"Severus-" she began, her eyes cast down to the floor in shame.

"The very reason why I forbade you to go back into those tunnels happened tonight! Your reckless, selfish behaviour almost got you killed. You are unbelievably lucky to be alive, Circe!"

"Severus, listen to me. You have every right to be angry with me-"

"Angry? I am incandescent!" He interrupted.

"I know where the Chamber is!" She shouted back at him, silencing him. "And… And I think Harry's gone in there after it... with Gilderoy."

* * *

Severus was acutely aware that his hand was still snaked around Circe's waist as they walked together towards the entrance to Dumbledore's office. He did his best to listen, but it was noticeably harder when all his mind wanted to settle on was where his hand lay. Well… "Walked" was a stretch. Hobbled, perhaps. Circe's arm hung over his shoulder and she was still very unsure on her own feet. Nevertheless, she had insisted on leaving Gilderoy's office and moving to the Headmaster's rooms as quickly as possible. Severus had begrudgingly been forced to offer her an arm when she almost fell down the stairs. Still, Severus straightened his back and buried his anger at her, for the time being, to be her crutch. As they walked, she told him all about what she had found down by the girls' bathrooms, what she had overheard Potter and Weasley talking about outside to the hospital wing, and the ensuing chase with Ginny and the basilisk earlier that night.

"We need every last one of us to fight this thing, Severus." She had muttered, through her clenched teeth, her head still pounding. "And Dumbledore needs to be back here twenty minutes ago…"

They approached the statue that led to the Headmaster's office together. Circe bent double, and they had to stop again for her to be sick in a corner. Severus waited patiently. Perhaps she wasn't as unscathed after his dittany application than he had hoped… She needed to be checked for concussion, not running round the school after Potter.

 _Potter…_ Severus's thoughts lingered here a moment. _Now probably in more danger than he ever has been before._ He had wanted to go straight to the girl's bathroom himself. But Circe's description of the long vertical tunnel leading down to the subterranean floors had halted him. Even if he did manage to traverse the drop and bury his claustrophobic fear for the second time that night, Circe had reminded him of the Headmaster's warning last year, after their little adventure with the Philosopher's Stone:

"Dumbledore made it quite clear that if we kept him out of the loop and went in headlong by ourselves again, without telling anybody else what was going on, then we'd both be facing a dismissal, Severus."

Snape, of course, didn't care whether he did or did not keep his job. Lily's son was in danger again, and he would fight with every last muscle and sinew in his body to preserve her memory. But even he admitted to not being confident enough to take on an ancient monstrous Basilisk completely by himself. And Circe, by the looks of things, wasn't going anywhere with him any time soon. The sooner Dumbledore received word to come back, the better.

Severus pulled Circe onto the spinning statue and they rose up into the Headmaster's office together. Circe groaned as the spinning sent her reeling.

"Are you alright?" Severus asked cautiously. She had turned deathly pale. The smear of blood on her face looking like a black oil slick in the darkness around them.

"You're sure Minerva said she would be here?" She asked, choosing to ignore Severus's last question.

"Yes. She said she was going to use the records Dumbledore kept in his office to start the evacuation…" Garnering Minerva's help wasn't the same as having Dumbledore, but it was a good place to start. They walked through into the office and looked desperately around. She had expected quiet, or the singular voice of her friend speaking on the telephone to a parent about the imminent school closure. Instead the office was filled with the frantic cawing and rattling of Fawkes.

"Minerva?" Circe called out, but was met with emptiness. "She's not here."

Severus lugged her over to the chair opposite Dumbledore's desk, and lowered her into it. Severus set about searching the Headmaster's desk for anything useful, or a sign of where to find him. Circe grimaced as Fawkes screamed at her and beat his great wings. She heard the clatter of metal and looked toward the bird's perch. Someone had locked him away in a great golden cage. Perhaps even Dumbledore himself when he knew he was to be leaving the school. Fawkes was obviously greatly distressed. He bit away at the bars and threw himself bodily against the walls of the cage, all the while screeching and cawing noisily.

 _Well, aren't you different from when the last time I was here young man…_ Circe thought dreamily. It was clear the Phoenix had burnt itself and rejuvenated back to the strength of youth. She stood up slowly, and with great pains. But something within her drew her to the bird's side, and as she stared into his bright shining eyes, everything else seemed to fade away, even the pain in her head…

 _What is it Fawkes?_ She thought, almost becoming lost in the creature's penetrating stare. His eyes seemed to speak back to her, imploring her to release him…

Severus pulled what he had been searching for from the draw in the Headmaster's desk: his forwarding address. His eyes fell upon Circe just as she decided to cast "alohomora" on the huge, swinging golden lock on the phoenix's cage and throw the door open. Fawkes burst from its bars with a triumphant cry, flying in a wide circle about the room as Severus and Circe watched him in awe. Before leaving, he grabbed the Sorting Hat in his great talons and smashed through the office's window with a shower of coloured glass. When he and Circe both lowered their protective arms from their face, Minerva was stood at the office's threshold, looking more shocked and confused than Circe had ever seen her.

"Severus, Circe...what, by Merlin's old hairy arse, is going on?!"


	18. "Look at how far we've come. Everything is so clear, Can't believe it's been another year."

"So after all that work… all those hours in the library and down the tunnels… I was beaten by a twelve year old boy and a bird. Everything I did basically counted for nothing."

Circe pushed the trolley that held the Restoration Draft down the central gangway of the Hospital wing. Severus stopped outside Colin Creevey's bed to administer the now completed potion and she pushed the trolley straight into the back of his legs. He grumbled and shot her a look of profound annoyance. She stared back at him with a look of apology, but a mischievous twinkle in her eye. A neat bandage was now stuck over her own injury. It would leave a small scar just near the corner of her left eye, but she was lucky that this was the worst of her consequences.

"Professor, I do believe if I have to hear you whinging about yourself once more, I shall throw you off the top of Ravenclaw tower."

Harry had emerged from the Chamber in Fawkes's talons with Ginny, Ron and Gilderoy in tow, a mere hour after she had released the Phoenix from his cage. When Harry had come to the Hospital for his post-adventure checkup, Circe had leapt from her own bed and beset him with a myriad of questions.

_How did you reach the Chamber?_

_Why did you know where to find it?_

_Why is Professor Lockhart catatonicaly stupid now?_

_What was the Chamber like?_

_How did you defeat the monster?_

Poor Madame Pomfrey had been required to move the boy to the other end of the wing to spare him the inquisition.

Severus was still giving her the silent treatment as punishment for her secrecy on the night of Ginny's disappearance. That didn't stop her from talking _at_ Severus however, going through her disappointment that she'd not seen the Chamber for herself before Dumbledore had returned to the school to re-establish order. He'd also been left with a lot of the explaining to do to the Headmaster, as Circe's head injury had left her blabbering and incongruously spouting about how "Fawkes spoke to me…". How exactly she got her head injury, and the mess left behind in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom Severus had covered with a simple "the monster did it…".

He had completed the Draft that night, by the grace of God, and the two of them were proudly dishing out their hard won achievement to the petrified victims one by one. Hermione and Justin Finch-Fletchley both sat up comfortably in their beds, and Mrs Norriss purred happily in the cat basket by the door. Circe pushed the trolley by Gilderoy's bed and stole a glance through the privacy curtain at him. He caught her eye and waved merrily back to her, in a set of pink striped pyjamas that he previously wouldn't have been seen dead in. She smiled weakly and waved back at him.

"He saved my life, Severus." Circe said in a low voice.

Severus looked to Gilderoy too, humming a tuneless song to himself as he sat in bed. "Yes, you said. Pulled you out of the rubble." Snape responded flatly. He had been surprised when Circe had first told him how she'd come to be in that trunk…

"Why did he do it? Harry and Ron said he was trying to get away from the castle as quickly as possible to abandon us."

"Perhaps he wanted to redeem himself."

"And risk his own chance of escape?"

"Maybe he wanted to do something to… make up for how he'd treated you before. When you were-"

"Yeah, I get what you mean." She butt in quickly.

"But it was so unlike him… that might be the first truly heroic thing he's ever done in his life."

"And now he can't even remember it." Snape added coolly. "Quite cruelly ironic, isn't it."

"Not as cruelly ironic as a freaking Ancient Studies Professor being pipped to the post by three children on her own specialism..."

Severus growled and pushed the trolley into her thighs. She yelped as she rubbed her skin and looked to Severus with a pout.

"Stop it, Circe. You can't keep on about this, it's water under the bridge now. The school is safe. The monster is dead. Does it matter how we got there?"

"Easy for you to say. You didn't spend evenings trawling through every cartographic book in this castle, tired to the core, trying not to pass out from exhaustion on your work!"

"Again…" Snape said with a smirk.

"Yeah, again…" Circe replied. She couldn't help a small smile spreading across her lips as she remembered that night. "It's like it didn't even matter that I was here. Everything I did counted for nothing. I was a big fat fucking ball of _useless_."

"Oh for goodness sake…" he strode over to Hermione's bed and flung back the curtain, revealing the girl looking back at him with a look of shock on her face. "Granger, tell Professor Smith what you told the Headmaster when he came to ask you about how Potter and Weasley found the Chamber."

"I… I said that I knew the Professor had looked quite a bit at the maps of Hogwarts and had found nothing, so she inspired me to look-"

"At the pipes, yes. But why did the _inspiration_ come?" He asked, shortly. Circe would have been satisfied enough hearing that she'd "inspired" the girl.

"Well, after that day when we saw the Professor in… in Myrtle's bathroom. I knew there must be something down there, otherwise why would she have been looking there? And on the day I was petrified, and I found the story of the Basilisk, I wrote it down on the book page. In case I didn't make it back to Harry and Ron to tell them…"

"What did you write?" Circe asked, remembering the conversation she had overheard with Harry and Ron from her hidden spot in the tunnels.

"I-I wrote. "It's in the pipes. Why Professor Smith was down the toilet!"." She replied, blushing from ear to ear.

Severus turned to Circe with his inky brow arched in vindication. She turned her back and walked away from Hermione's bed, smiling to herself. Colin was just beginning to wriggle his limbs in his bed and Madame Pomfrey was at his side, gently speaking to him as he woke from his deep sleep. The longer a victim was in a prettified state, the longer it took for the Draft to work. Circe swelled with pride as Severus stood at her back, watching the last of the Basilisk's victims come back to life.

"And you see, Professor, the Draft is just as much an achievement for you as it is for me." He said in a hushed tone. His voice in her ear set the hairs on her arms on edge again. "It was rather a collaborative endeavour, after all."

"We made quite the team, didn't we Severus." She said, turning to face him.

"Yes, until you decided to break my trust and sever any hope I had of finding you in the pipes." He said, his hurt plain in his voice. His eyes involuntarily flicked back to the plaster on her head, a symbol of the decision she'd made that night that had almost ended her life.

"I had to… We needed Dumbledore, and you wouldn't have allowed me to go by myself if I'd said-"

"You didn't _have_ to. You didn't have to lie to me." He said shortly.

"Severus," she said, laying a hand on top of his arm. She felt him tense up beneath her touch and he stared at her in enraptured silence. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone down there looking for trouble and leaving you with no means of finding me. And I'm sorry I lied to you… I won't again. I promise. But it's like you said: it's water under the bridge. The school is safe again and the monster's dead. Does it matter how we got there?"

He sighed. Severus could see in her eyes that she hadn't enjoyed deceiving him, and Circe could see in his eyes that he didn't enjoy being angry with her. Most people he liked to be angry with… _but not me._ The thought made the butterflies wriggle in her stomach.

"You… promise?" He said quietly.

She nodded. "I do."

* * *

Circe pushed open the large wooden doors to the Great Hall, and from around her emerged the previously petrified victims: all healthy, well and heartily welcomed back by their peers. The students already sat at the house tables gasped and called to them joyously. Circe smiled widely, a small tear in her eye as Hermione ran past her and into the outstretched arms of her friends. She walked into the Great Hall for the feast on the final day of term to take her place at the Staff table. She was starving, having not eaten properly since her head injury. Her appetite properly came back with avengence as she cast her eyes over the delicious food set out on the tables: steak and ale pies decorated with the most beautiful pastry leaves and flowers, buttered leeks, mounds of fluffy mashed potato … her mouth watered. Yet as she reached the table her eyes fell on the only vacant seat beside Severus and her appetite dwindled once more, butterflies squirming in her stomach. The smallest incline of his head invited her to sit, and she moved to oblige him.

Champagne was the staff treat for today, and Circe poured herself a tall fizzing flute and popped a in a single raspberry. It was only on very rare occasions that Circe felt put-off food. She loved it. Had always loved eating. But she did recall previously in her life when she'd felt moved enough to be off her food... When she'd felt ill but not ill. Restless but calm. Pleasantly aching. She sipped her flute, the liquid tart and crisp on her tongue, and tried to push through the conclusion she didn't want to come to… just yet. Circe began hungrily dishing herself out a portion of pie, giving herself an extra scoop of filling to try and convince herself that she was fine. She offered the potatoes to Severus and he waved them politely away. He had a general rule of avoiding eating, as much as he could, in the company of students or other staff. Instead, he picked at the pie and knocked back a few glasses of champagne, the fizzy feeling filling his gut with the liquid courage he needed.

"So, you'll go back to your Father's for the summer?"

"Oof this is déjà-vu from this time last year isn't it, Severus." She laughed haughtily. Severus went quiet, unsure how he'd garnered such a brusque reply from her. She sensed his deflation and decided to drop her attempt at trying to play cool. "Yes, I am. And you to Spinner's End?"

"Well at least you got it right this year."

They both laughed.

"Well, cheers to another year of not tearing each other's throats out, Severus." She said and they clinked glasses.

"Yes, well… I thought you might quite like to… continue the trend of… not tearing each other's throats out into the Summer?" He said, his heart dipping and weaving in his chest.

Circe looked to him, his face hidden as he stared down at his small plate of food. He prodded at a piece of pastry with his fork, not daring to look up and see the look of disgust that he assumed would be plastered on her face.

"Write to one another?" She asked tentatively. He shrugged his shoulders in affirmation, still doggedly refusing to look at her.

_Just like you promised you would last year?_ She thought bitterly.

He sensed her hesitation and scrabbled around in his own mind desperately for something that might assuage her. "I know I was not particularly forthcoming with my end of that arrangement last year-"

"You didn't write to me once, Severus." She added, feeling the old wound open. _How do I know you won't start a million letters again and never get around to sending them?_ She wanted to tell him she'd found his letters on that day he'd come storming into her classroom in a tantrum. How each of his starts had pulled at her heart for one reason or another. Yet the fact remained that he had still chosen not to post them. He had still chosen to ignore her once she was out of his sights, and what use was a confrontation when it came down to it? Circe had thought they'd grown close this year, but she had thought that by last summer too. Perhaps Severus was one of those people that just had a different life outside of work. Never mixed business and pleasure. Perhaps that was a rule she needed to stick more too as well considering how the shift of Severus's fingers or a correctly placed look from him could keep her up late into the night.

"Then I shall raise the stakes." Severus said achingly slowly. "More than just letters."

"What do you mean?"

"Meet me."

She blinked in disbelief. "I- what?"

"You must get as catatonically bored over the summer as I do…." He finally raised his eyes from his plate. It was a cry for friendship and companionship over legions of time in solitude. He felt as if he were stranded out in no man's land. In unfamiliar, hostile territory with none of his armour of coldness and distance to protect him.

All thoughts of why or where came into her head and left as swiftly as they arrived. She cleared her throat and tried to play at being cool again.

"I will await your instructions then, Professor." She said with a grin, touching the flute to her lips.

Flitwick tapped her on the shoulder, severing the penetrating look between them to ask her for the gravy. Circe's attention was called away elsewhere, and Severus took the opportunity to down another glass of champagne and wipe the beads of sweat that had gathered at his temple. He fought hard to smother the wide smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth.

* * *

Circe had gone with most of the staff down to the Three Broomsticks to welcome back Hagrid from Azkaban with open arms. The castle was empty now all of the students had once again dispersed for the Summer, and Snape watched the merry band of his colleagues walk down to the village from his spot in the clock tower solemnly. Circe walked arm in arm with Minerva, carrying the last of her suitcases to depart after the last drink of the term. He mused over how easy laughter and conversation seemed to come to her; she was able to slip into any group of people, become a bright star in any room she was in, be a person people enjoyed to be around... and the exact opposite was true for him. Severus had considered joining them down in Hogsmeade, but decided that he was not the kind of 'let's grab a quick drink' colleague. He would have to get used to being lonely again over the long summer months at Spinner's End, he might as well start acclimatising himself to the feeling now. Still, at least he had their meeting to look forward to…

Circe pulled away from Minerva and stood quite alone in the Hogwarts courtyard whilst her other colleagues walked on. Severus watched her as she turned back to Hogwarts and cast a long look over the many towers and trellises before her. He felt rather voyeuristic watching her in this moment of private introspection and moved to back away from the window when she locked eyes with him, spotting him gazing down at her from the very top of the tower. He drew in his breath sharply and froze. _Whatever will she think of you, staring down at her like some hideous creepy gargoyle on the roof?_ He thought bleakly. Circe smiled and waved her spare hand up to him as a last goodbye. He was taken slightly aback that she wasn't annoyed or unsettled by him watching over her. He shyly raised his own hand and gave her a small wave back. And with that, she grinned broadly up at Severus one last time, and turned from him to leave.

Once his heartbeat had settled down, Severus began the long descent from the top of the tower. It had not just been his reluctance to socialise that had kept him from joining Hagrid's "welcome back" pub session, the Headmaster had called to see him before he left for the holidays. He came to the Headmaster's office door and knocked reluctantly. For Dumbledore to have asked to see him at this point in the year, it must be important.

"Come in, Severus…" came the old man's voice on the other side, and Snape pushed the door open, stepping inside.

"Headmaster, you wished to see…" Severus began, but halted as he saw the item on Dumbledore's desk. The old Headmaster looked pale and haggard as he too stared at the book before him. The pages were torn and crinkled, and a huge hole now sat squarely at the center where the Basilisk's fang had plunged into it. Severus approached it cautiously, judging by the grave look on Dumbledore's face that this was an item of immense magical power. He hovered over the deep black cover and saw the gold embossed letters on the front, some smothered with ink and blood, but still chillingly readable:

"Tom Marvolo Riddle…. this… this can't be-" Severus said shakily, recognizing the name in an instant.

"It is. From his own time as a student at Hogwarts."

"But… how did-"

"Harry found it within The Chamber. He said that the "memory" of Riddle was controlling the Weasley girl and so to lift the curse, he destroyed the thing with a Basilisk tooth." The Headmaster held up a fang that had been placed at the side of the diary in demonstration.

"A "memory"?" Severus repeated, confusion tainting his voice. He lost himself in the black, puckered leather of the diary, his head swimming with questions. "What do you think the boy meant by that?"

"I'm afraid what I suspected last year is true, Severus." Dumbledore said slowly, leaning in close to Snape. "Voldemort _will_ be back. From the power this seemingly ordinary object exercised over Ginny Weasley, and the visions of Riddle it showed to Harry in the Chamber…" he sucked in his breath, as if mentally steeling himself for the conclusion he was leading to. "The diary Harry destroyed can only be… a horcrux."

"No…" Severus breathed, the air around him turning cold and heavy. "The diary wasn't a "memory" it was-"

"A part of Voldemort's soul."

The two men went quiet, both lost in terrible thoughts as they stared at the book. Even though Dumbledore had told him the horcrux was now destroyed, the diary still had a sinister, evil feel to it. The Dark Mark on Severus's arm prickled almost on cue and he flinched, grasping his wrist with a jump.

"The questions raised last year when Quirrell was killed have, I'm afraid, been horribly, frightfully answered."

"There will be more." Severus said flatly as he traced a finger over the golden letters. "Who knows how many. He certainly killed enough people to make a small legion of them."

Dumbledore sighed heavily, having reached the same conclusion as Snape.

"I'm afraid, Severus, that that is not the sum of why I called you here today." He spoke levelly, fixing him with a long, sombre look.

"What?"

"Harry also told me how he came by the book…" Dumbledore halted, not wanting to tell Severus what he had to say.

"How?" Severus prompted him. He could sense the pain that pulled at Dumbledore, preventing him from speaking.

"He said… Professor Smith dropped it the day she… crawled out of the toilet." The Headmaster cringed as he lingered over his last words.

"Circe had it?!"

"Yes. Which I'm afraid leaves us with two possible, but equally worrisome scenarios."

"Which are?" Severus asked, rubbing his eyes exasperatedly. Right at this moment, he was not appreciating the Headmaster's ambling, poetical cadences.

"Either Circe has, from the very beginning, been allied with those who ensured the diary was smuggled into the castle, bringing it directly to Harry when the Weasley girl tried to get rid of-"

"No!" Severus said sharply. "I don't believe it."

"Don't believe it because you know differently? Or don't believe it because you don't want to, Severus?"

"She is not an ally of the Dark Lord!" He shouted, standing to his feet. "I… I trust her, I will vouch for her."

"Severus, sit down." Dumbledore said calmly. "I also agree this scenario is unlikely… especially after how upset she appeared when she discovered your arrest as a Death Eater."

"She… she knows I was a Death Eater?" Severus asked, the emotion plain in his voice.

"She does, and she was also informed to the contrary after your Duel."

_Oh God, that explains her comment after she broke her nose during the fight. Why she was so cold to me beforehand._

"What did you tell her?" Severus asked, clenching his jaw and fixing Dumbledore with a vicious stare.

"I did not tell her about Lily if that's what you're insinuating, Severus." Dumbledore replied defensively.

Severus let go of the knuckle-whitening grip he had held on the arms of his chair. He acknowledged that his attraction to Circe that year had grown from a juvenile feeling of puppy-love, as it had been previously, to something much more adult and downright sinful. Before, he took solace in dismissing his feelings as the twinge of someone still desperately grieving the love of his life, but still ultimately human. Now was another matter. Circe had stolen herself into his thoughts more and more. Into his libidinous hands… Yet it was still Lily's face who haunted his dreams at night, her eternal memory that drove him on. Anybody knowing of his love for Lily, especially Circe, would destroy him. Yet he had lay in bed at night many times that year wondering why crippling guilt and alarm seized him bodily any time he consciously thought of any face but Lily's in his private moments. He still clung to her memory like an old comfort blanket, the pain and regret that came with it all included in what he had grown used to living with. But as the year had marched on, he realised that his guilt had begun to dwindle. His self-punishing thoughts any time he left Circe's presence had become less severe. Somewhere within him, unconsciously, at some point in the year because of Circe, he had begun to flirt with the idea that he could be _less_ miserable... Let ghosts lie... _Perhaps even enjoy being alive from time to time._

"I'm afraid the second possible scenario for Professor Smith doesn't offer much more solace for us." Dumbledore added quickly before Severus could ask him any questions about his and Circe's conversation.

"Why?" Severus queried, sinking exhaustedly back into the chair.

"Circe was clearly in possession of the diary for a time. And for a magical item that held a part of Voldemort's soul, something as potent and evil as a horcrux… Voldemort may be aware of her now."

"Just from holding it? Picking it up? Do you know if she even opened it?" He asked shortly.

"I don't. However, that might not matter, Severus." Dumbledore said with a shrug.

Severus closed his eyes and sighed. Circe had told him of how she'd always wanted to be a part of the wizarding war. How her age had gotten in her way. How guilty she felt that her friends in the older years had fought for her whilst she'd been powerless to do anything. She very soon would have everything her teenage self would have wanted: to be at the very center of the fight against Dark Lord's uprising, but for a very different reason. Dumbledore was right. Circe was a possible target for Voldemort to concentrate his energies on. All because she'd picked up that blasted book in the tunnels.

_She didn't mention anything to me about opening it… but then again why would she? The name Tom Marvolo Riddle will mean nothing to her. Some of Voldemort's closest followers didn't know his birth name._

Dumbledore folded his hands together and fixed the Potions Master with a serious look. "But what I do know is that Professor Smith might be in more danger now than she ever has been before."


	19. "If my wishes came true, it would have been you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lockdown 3 in the Uk got me stressed and depressed. So please be patient with me, lovelies  
> x

Chapter 19- "If my wishes came true, it would have been you."

Severus sat contemplatively on a bench inside The National Scottish Gallery. Muggles moved about him chattering to one another as they inspected maps of the Gallery or ruffled the rain off their anoraks. It was busy today. It was the summer holidays and the muggle schools were still out, after all. Severus stared up at the painting he sat opposite. He always made a point of sitting here, by this painting in particular. Antonio Allegri da Correggio's 'An Allegory of Virtue' was unique not for it's demonstration of skill, but rather for the lack of it. The painter was, of course, brilliant in that way Renaissance painters were: with their swooping dramatic poses, waxy-looking figures and rich diaphanous clothes swaying in an invisible breeze. But right at the center of it, there was an incomplete figure. The Goddess of Virtue herself was nothing more than a sketch. There had been much debate over whether the painting was deliberately left "unfinished" or not. Severus rather liked that. How do you represent goodness and virtue, after all? Does it even exist? Is anybody, even those considered to be Gods and monsters, ever truly that black and white?

"This spot again, Severus?" Came a voice at his side. He did not need to look away from the painting as she sat down beside him, the familiar flourish of a tartan coat in the corner of his eye confirming it. Circe tucked her brolly into her handbag and settled into the bench at Snape's side. The walk from the Prince's Street gardens had been short but she'd apparated in the middle of a traditional Scottish downpour. It had taken her a while to spot Severus, clad in his more muggle-friendly black leather jacket as he was. But the long, dark hair and hunched shoulders had given him away.

"There are other paintings in this Gallery, by the way." She said with a roll of her eyes, delving into her handbag once more to save her copy of today's Prophet from the rain of her umbrella.

"Aren't we all creatures of habit, at the end of the day?" Severus asked, drawing his eyes away from the painting and finally looking at her. Circe snorted and looked back at him wordlessly.

 _Will this be the fourth… or fifth time we've met?_ She thought to herself as the general noise of the many tourists in the Gallery seemed to fade away as she lost herself in his obsidian eyes. Her and Severus's meetings had become something of a regularity as the summer had progressed. Edinburgh had been the natural place for a meeting between them. Severus had found himself becoming slowly enchanted with the city once again and a small routine had established between him and Circe. They always started off by meeting in the Gallery, ambling slowly from canvas to canvas as they did their required catch-up small talk, and then on into the Old Town they would go walking, for a teacake and a small peruse of the record stores.

Circe smiled warmly at him and he returned her greeting with a slight upturn to the corner of his mouth.

"How are you?" He asked, feeling his nerves quieten now she was here beside him. He had been something of an emotional wreck the first time he had arranged a meeting: sweating, heart thumping, irritable, stomach in cramps. He still slightly got those surge of nerves in the moments before she was due to arrive, but he always made a habit of getting to the Gallery before she did so he had time to compose himself.

"I'm… I'm doing good. Thanks. Lots of new stuff happening." She responded simply. "Can't wait to be back at work next week though."

As Severus's summer had been long and lonely, Circe's had been busy and bustling. Never a moment to herself at her Dad's with Tom and Alec running about too, Myron trying to make up for the lost gigging time they'd had at the end of last year, and of course, her meetings with Severus.

"I saw your review in the Prophet." Severus said, eyeing up the newspaper she held.

"Oh, you did?" She said, blushing slightly. 'The Weird Sisters' had reformed under a new lineup: Her, Myron, and a few other musicians he knew on the circuit. And just like that, Circe had been catapulted from bar and pub gigs to proper venues, with a paying crowd, a bigger, louder sound system, and an actual growing fan base. Lots of people now saying 'yes' instead of 'no'. The Daily Prophet had dubbed them that year's "band to watch" and had written quite the glowing review of their last gig down in Camden. The article had paired the review with a rather unflattering picture of Myron on stage, slamming a shot and cramming the empty glass down some poor groupie's cleavage as Circe laughed in the background, guitar in hand. She had been a few sambuca shots worse for wear by the time that picture had been taken too…

Severus had been keeping a close eye on Circe that summer. Tracking her movements, keeping stock of who she socialised with, hence his awareness of the gig review. His conversation with Dumbledore before the holiday's commencement had put him on edge for her. He'd seen nothing to confirm the Headmaster's first allegation that she was a Dark Lord sympathiser and he was proud that he'd put his trust in her. The second concern, however, was harder to confirm...

 _Perhaps I should ask about the diary_ … _Perhaps I should tell her that she needs to be careful._

His meetings with her had been partly to check on her well-being and partly for his own benefit, and he didn't want to taint the short time he had with her with suspicions and fear mongering.

_Let her enjoy this time. It may all get very bad very quickly for her._

"Well, you might be the only person who has read the review." Circe sighed. "Have you seen this?" She fluttered the paper at him and opened it up to reveal the front page.

"Circe…!" He chided her in a hushed tone, moving in close to her to try and hide the newspaper from the eyes of onlooking muggles. He knew that muggles didn't see the images moving like wizarding kind did, but nevertheless he remembered it had made his father feel odd looking at them, "like a magic-eye trick poster" he'd said before ripping them up. He cast a nervous eye around the Gallery, and finally looked back at her with a reproachfully raised brow before glancing at the paper she'd placed in his lap. The screaming mugshot of Sirius Black stared back at him, with the headline "BLACK STILL AT LARGE!".

"A daring prison escape, a killer on the loose, the biggest manhunt in the wizarding world in recent memory… It's a wonder anyone made it past that story to our measly little review." Circe said wistfully.

"And it seems each time he is sighted, he's heading further and further north." Severus mumbled, pulling the article closer to him. "Grasmere, Cumbria. He's almost at the border now."

"You don't think… he's heading to-"

"Hogwarts." Severus finished for her.

"But why?" She asked, puzzling away. Severus looked Circe in the eye and arched his brow at her once more, inviting her to take a guess. She paused for a moment and it dawned on her. "For Harry... Jesus, you'd have thought him killing that bloke he blew up and betraying The Potters to Voldemort would have been enough for him, wouldn't you."

She remembered well enough Black's arrest soon after the War had ended, back in '81. It had been the only thing the school had talked about. The first high-profile arrest in the time after Voldemort's disappearance, and Black's sentencing had begun the trend of life imprisonment rotting away in Azkaban for any ex Death Eaters found guilty.

"Well, Sirius was never someone to let sleeping dog's lie…" Severus muttered coldly.

They rose from the bench in unison and ambled along the Gallery at leisure. Circe had questions about Sirius, and Severus tried to answer them as best he could. He felt himself growing impatient with her; asking more questions about Black than about him, their conversation wheeling back to Sirius at each opportunity.

"So he was in the same year as you and the Potters?"

"He was."

"And he was _friends_ with James?"

"Yes."

"Godfather to Harry too?"

"Indeed."

"So why did he betray them both?"

"I have no idea!" He spat, breaking from her side to look at a painting on the other wall of the gallery. He was hurt. This was _his_ time with her, and it seemed that Black was stealing her from him despite not even being there.

_Must I always contend with one Marauder or another for a woman's attention?!_

Severus stopped dead and stared into space. Had he really just thought that? Made Circe directly comparable to Lily?

Circe watched Severus's back heaving with heavy breaths. He folded his arms around himself and clung on to his elbows, as if he were trying to shrink into himself, wanting to become invisible. She bit her lip and realized that Severus may be annoyed at her apparent obsessive level of interest in Black. She also sensed that she was skirting around another tetchy issue in Snape's past. Anything that came close to James or Lily Potter was difficult for him, she realized. As much as she wanted to ask Severus for information, she swallowed her curiosity and decided to shelf it for another day, or another person… Circe sighed to herself, bemoaning the lightning-fast speed in which Severus could shift moods. Anybody else in her life who behaved like this, she would have made pains to avoid. But when it came to Severus, she never seemed to follow the rules. He defied logic and sensibility. When he pushed back, she stepped closer. She approached him slowly and hovered at his left shoulder.

"Come on, it's your turn to buy the teacakes this time."

Severus looked to her as she smiled kindly back at him. He envied her really; she'd had all that had been stolen from him in his twenties. He remembered that picture of her he'd seen in the Prophet: having the time of her life, laughing, uncrippled by regret and grief like he was. He resisted the temptation to go meandering down the thought path of wondering how different his life today may have been if Lily hadn't died. If he'd never joined the Dark Lord. If his mother had left his father when he was young. If just one small thing had been different, could he have been like Circe?

_Could she have ever fallen for me... in the way Lily didn't?_

He nodded to her and they exited the Gallery.

Circe directed him up to the Old Town, both huddled under her small umbrella as the rain beat down around them. She pushed past the tourists on the Royal Mile, dodging and weaving around the soaked actors handing out flyers to passers by. The streets quietened down as they moved away from the Mile and towards Circe's favorite little cafe. She spied an empty table in the window of The Elephant Cafe and barged past an American couple hovering by the door, looking at the menu. Severus offered a small apology to them and sheepishly followed her inside.

"To think, Severus, it's almost two years to the day that I was sitting in here debating whether to take up the job at Hogwarts." Circe mused, sipping at her coffee.

"Having regrets, Professor?" He asked with a sarcastic twinge.

"Oh every day. Especially after having to work in such close proximity to you." She responded, similarly sarcastically. A flash of hurt passed over Severus's face and she stuttered "I… I was joking…"

 _No you're not. I know what a miserable, foul-tempered sod I am._ He thought bitterly.

"You will have to be… cautious this year. More cautious than you have been at Hogwarts so far."

"What? What do you mean? Why?"

Severus shifted in his seat and clenched his jaw, as if rolling something bitter around in his mouth.

"There are some long term consequences to the events of last year." he said cautiously.

"Like what?" She asked, peering over the top of her coffee cup.

 _What do I even ask?_ He thought. _How would the Dark Lord seep his way into her life? How would he start poisoning her?_

"Have there been any… troublesome experiences for you recently?"

"What, you mean apart from having my head bitten off by you earlier?" She replied with a small laugh.

Severus went quiet and introspective again. Circe watched him staring out of the cafe's window into the rain. His cryptic conversation unsettled her. There was something _again_ that he was not sharing with her. She wondered how ancient hieroglyphics or Nordic runes could be easier for her to read than this man. Severus didn't come with a translation. He was baffling. A riddle wrapped in a mystery wrapped in an enigma. She could not deny to herself that there was something between them. An as yet nameless connection. But she felt powerless to influence it or change it, in fear that if she disturbed the waters too much then Severus would be lost to her forever.

 _Why does nothing ever come easy to me?_ She thought.

"I suppose I better be leaving." He said suddenly. Circe flinched at the brusqueness of it. "I wish you a pleasant remainder of your holidays." He bowed to her stiffly. It was sweetly awkward.

"Yes, you too Severus. I'll be seeing you soon. At Hogwarts."

"I… I apologize if I seemed short-tempered with you in the Gallery earlier." He said shyly, pausing behind his chair as he put his leather jacket on. "Black and I were on rather bad terms in school and well… we loathed each other. That's the long and the short of a rather complicated state of affairs-"

"It's fine. Thank you. For telling me." Circe added quickly. Silence settled between them.

"You will tell me if there are any… troublesome experiences for you in the future?"

"I- yes. Sure." She replied, confusion etched on her voice.

Severus nodded. "Goodbye." He said finalistically as he strode out the door.

Circe watched him turn his collar against the wind and walk away from The Elephant Cafe, into the rain. She was shocked that Severus had offered her this information. There had been a time when she'd never dreamt that Snape would divulge anything about his personal affairs to her. But then again there had been a time, when she'd sat in this cafe before, that she'd never even would have entertained the possibility that she'd be returning to it with a dark, enigmatic, magical man beside her. She wished that she had her time again. She wished she'd gone back to Hogwarts sooner, to know her place in the world sooner, be happy in the world where she belonged. To have known Severus for longer.

_Well, if my wishes were ever in the habit of coming true… I wish it could always have been you._

* * *

It was raining heavily against the windscreen of Circe's car. Her wipers moved at high speed as they tried in vain to keep the view clear. She had left the journey to Hogwarts late that year, and it was now dark. She cursed herself for this poor decision and squinted into the rain-soaked gloom. Her VW Beetle had been old the first time she'd driven up to Hogwarts, but now she'd left it idling in the Hogsmeade station car park for two years on the trot now, it had rather fallen apart from misuse. Her Dad had fussed over it, worrying over Circe having to drive it all the way from the Midlands to rural Scotland, and had double checked the tires for her, but at the end of the day, Circe knew that the car was on its last legs. The wipers screeched over the glass, the rubber on them long gone. One of her headlights had given out somewhere near Carlisle. Circe knew she was driving dangerously, but rationalised that if she just pressed on and got to Hogsmeade as quickly as she could, then the car could be sold for scrap. It just needed to survive one last trip.

 _I must be almost there now…_ she thought, her nose almost pressed up against the glass as she struggled to see the way clearly. Her radio, mercifully, still worked and she'd been tuned in to the Wizarding Wireless Network for quite a considerable chunk of the drive up. The updates on the manhunt for Black had entertained her for a time, detailing the various sightings that had been reported, all of them hedging closer and closer to Hogwarts as Severus had predicted. The news broadcast had ended some time ago and Celestina Warbeck was now on the airwaves giving her best warbling rendition of "Accio Love". Circe grimaced and removed her eyes from the road to change the station. She fumbled with the radio tuner as static blared over her speakers and she eventually decided that silence was preferable to this… She twisted the volume button down with a heavy sigh and glanced back to the road.

She gasped as she saw, in the center of the dark country road, a huge black dog.

The creature looked up towards her, caught squarely in her singular headlight, frozen in place.

Circe swerved.

Her car wheels went skidding along the rain-drenched tarmac and the old VW Beetle went careening to the side. The whole vehicle spun as Circe lost control. A sickening metallic crunch filled her ears as she came to a lurching halt. Her airbags deployed, cushioning her fall, and for a few seconds she sat in her seat, dumbstruck and shocked but unharmed.

She had landed in the nearby ditch, the boot of the car in the dirt, leaving Circe able to see the clouds above from over the airbags. She groaned and fumbled with her seatbelt. Ziggy was going mental in his cage on the passenger seat, and she reached over to him first when she had recovered her wits.

"Ziggy… Ziggy my love, are you alright?"

The bird screeched at her in response and she clasped a hand to the cage, checking him for any damage. He too was fine. She groaned once more as the emotional weight of her crash finally hit her. She grasped at the door handle and tried pushing it open. When it didn't budge she slammed her shoulder into it forcefully, again to no avail. She roared in exasperation.

Then, the huge black dog that she had swerved to avoid jumped onto her shattered windscreen, peering through the glass at her. Circe screamed out in shock, pressing herself back into her seat. The great beast stared at her with deep black eyes, regarding her with an unknowable, arcane look. Circe felt frozen in place by the curious gaze of the dog. It cocked its head to the side and gave her car a sniff. She held her breath, staring with intensity back at the animal. Perhaps she was imagining it, but it felt like the dog was checking on her… making sure she was alright. He looked a little mangy and malnourished, and Circe wandered for a second whether it might be a stray. And just as quickly as it had turned up, it jumped off the car's bonnet and fled into the night. Circe breathed a sigh of relief, wondering why the animal would have approached her. Why it hadn't run away from the car in fright as most animals would.

_And why was the bloody thing in the middle of the road anyway?! Fucking irresponsible dog owners..._

She turned to her door again, and kicked it with force. It sprung open under her boot and she climbed out into the soaking wet rain. She glanced around looking for the huge dog, but even if he was still nearby it was impossible to see him in the dank and dismal weather. She was sodden by the time she'd crawled her way out of the ditch and lugged Ziggy's cave from the passenger side. Circe opened the cage's door and let the owl fly free, sensing his annoyance with her for getting them both into the crash. He flew off into the black, wet sky towards the owlery without a backwards glance at her. Circe tried to pull her coat over her head, but the rain beat mercilessly down upon her and she was freezing cold in seconds. She decided to abandon her car for the time being and walk the remainder of the way to Hogwarts.

The ground was treacherous as she slipped about in the mud. The climb up to the castle had her breathing heavily, but she was no warmer for the exercise. In fact, the rain around her seemed to have turned bitterly cold and icy, a few hailstones thunking against her head, stinging at her skin like needles.

_My God, it's cold. It shouldn't be this cold for early September, should it?_

Her glasses were coated in raindrops and she struggled to see where she was placing her feet. A few surprise slips almost had her tumbling down the hill as she approached the walls of the castle, but she stopped dead as she realised that instead of the bitter stinging hailstones, it was now snowing. Her feet crunched against the grass and she realised that the ground too was coated in frost. A coldness gripped her whole being. It seeped through her clothes and into her very bones, draining her of all warmth and love. A crushing feeling of sorrow gripped at her heart and she found herself thinking of every terrible moment she'd ever had in her life: her mother's death, her father's refusal to see her after she died, crying in the alley behind the Three Broomsticks after Charlotte Ambrose's party, reading of her friends' deaths in the Prophet obituaries during the wizarding war, getting dragged from the Order's meeting house kicking and screaming, her most awful heartbreaks, feeling desperately lonely in her tiny flat in Edinburgh… from small to large, every moment of negativity she could remember began playing in her head until she felt overwhelmed by sadness. Stuck in a rising tide of awful, horrible memories that threatened to drown her. She raised her head just enough, in between gut-wrenching sobs, to see the black, ghostly figure of a skeletal nightmare descending on her. She sunk to her knees, her tears freezing on her face, as the Dementor reached out a decrepit hand to her. She searched the sky above her and saw a number of them hovering over her, their sable robes billowing out delicately from their haggard frames. She wanted to let the sadness consume her. Just to give up and lie down on the frozen grass. Wait for everything to end.

"Expecto Patronum!"

A brilliant white light filled her vision, surrounding her and basking her in warmth once again. She felt a great weight lift from her shoulders as the Dementors fled in alarm. From out of the white light walked a man that Circe did not recognize, but deep gratitude for him filled her nonetheless. He held his wand aloft, the stark whiteness of his spell still spilling forth from it like a great umbrella. He picked her up by the arm and she leaned heavily upon him.

"Can you cast the patronus? There's quite a few of them." He asked her, not taking his eyes from the Dementors as they threw themselves against the barrier he'd created.

"I don't think I could…" Circe replied weakly. She still felt like she could cry into next year.

"Alright. Stay close to me."

Circe nodded and clung on to his waist. The Dementors did not let up their attack, swooping down from the sky in turns to have a go at attacking Circe and the man. But he held firm, both on his spell and on to Circe. He pulled her into Hogwarts' gate and the great portcullis slammed shut behind them.

He placed Circe down on the floor and she leaned her back against the castle's inner wall. How had she managed to have the worst start to the year yet, and not even be on the first day of teaching? She wiped her face clean of the tears that still lingered there and closed her eyes, feeling completely drained. The rustle of a package in her face made her open them cautiously again. The man held a row of a bar of chocolate out to her that he'd snapped off a Cadbury's Dairy Milk.

"Eat this, you'll feel better." He said gently, waving it at her. "Good lord, that's the second time today I've had to save someone from a Dementor attack. I really must tell Dumbledore that they're far overstepping their realms of jurisdiction."

Circe took it and munched on it suspiciously as she eyed up the man closely. He was modestly dressed in a remarkably un-wizardly long beige cardigan and looked every bit as soaked to the skin as she was. She clocked the long, deep scars that ran across his face instantly, but it was a kind face. A caring face.

"Dementors… from Azkaban? I'd only ever read about them before. What are they doing here?"

"I imagine they thought you were Sirius Black, skulking about in the shadows near the castle, as you were." He said with a well-meaning chuckle.

"I-I crashed my car down near Hogsmeade…" she began, "I work here."

"Oh, me too!" He said jokingly, placing a hand in his corduroys and offering the other to Circe. "Remus Lupin."

"Circe Smith. Ancient Studies."

"Ahh, I thought I couldn't see Professor Babbling's name on the Staff list."

He tugged her to her feet as Circe took another munch of chocolate.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts?" She asked him.

"For my sins, yes." He said with a flick of his wand.

"Thank you, Professor Lupin." She said, trying to muster a smile. "God, what horrible things." She muttered, gazing out past the portcullis into the gloom where the Dementors no doubt lurked.

"Well, what can you expect from the guardians of the highest-priority wizard prison there is..." Lupin said, gazing too out into the darkness.

"Yeah but I wouldn't wish that on anyone. No one deserves to feel like that… not even the worst wizards out there."

"Hmm." He nodded sagely. "Well, let's get you inside. Crashed your car, you say? You look drenched."

Lupin placed a comforting arm around her shoulder and ushered her inside. "Cheers for the help, Severus…" he said with the slightest hint of contempt, calling back into the shadows near the portcullis. Circe wheeled around at the mention of Snape's name. There he stood, concealed by the black shadows cast in the moonlight, a look of horror on his face. He locked eyes with Circe and she saw a palpable fear etched deep into his features. He held his wand limply in his hand, his mouth hanging open.

_He'd been there all along._

"You… you didn't come to help me, Severus?" She asked, sharp, cold disappointment rising up in her chest.

"I…"

"You just watched from the shadows as the Dementors attacked me?"

"Circe…" he breathed, the terror leaving his legs just enough for him to step towards her. He had been on patrol with Lupin, looking for any loitering students and guaranteeing the gate was locked for the final time that night. A new precaution that had to be taken now Black was on the loose. Remus had not even tried to engage his former school mate in conversation. He could tell Snape was less than ecstatic to see him, quietly seething away with muttered curses and grinding his jaw as they walked their perimeter of the school. Perhaps it was deservedly so, considering how Remus had watched idly as Sirius and James often tormented him. But Lupin had seen the Dememntors coalescing around something from beyond the portcullis and had swiftly raised the bars to come to Circe's aid. Severus had not moved to Lupin's cries for assistance as he'd rushed to help her.

 _I wanted to. My God, I did. But I couldn't… Lupin can't see my patronus!_ Severus's thoughts shouted what his mouth could not say. _A doe… a doe…_

Angry tears sprang up in Circe's eyes and she turned from him sharply, her delicate state threatening to send her over the edge into ugly sobs again. Lupin shuffled to her side and lay a gentle hand on her shoulder, ready to explain that fear affects each person differently… But Circe shrugged him off forcefully and went marching into the halls of Hogwarts before she said something cruel.


	20. "And when I hurt, hurting runs off my shoulders."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: So, I'm technically a "key worker" and the long and short is my job gets a helluva lot more difficult during a lockdown. BUT I have not stopped writing cause this fic is literally all I think about and it's keeping me mentally afloat. But please continue to be patient with me etc etc.
> 
> Enjoy this lil chapter. And fun fact: Crce's memory towards the end of the chapter is (partly) inspired by one of my own happy memories. And why that song is one of my favourite tunes of all time
> 
> x

Chapter 20 - "And when I hurt, hurting runs off my shoulders."

"You see, the thing about jazz is that it's non-conformist, dangerous, it breaks all conventions..."

"Ugh, Science teachers and people who only exclusively buy ciabatta bread. That's who jazz is for isn't it?"

"You hate jazz?"

"I hate jazz."

"No no no, you don't hate jazz. You fear it's lack of rules."

Circe and Remus talked animatedly over a cup of coffee in the staff room. She had taken to a hammock today, lying recumbent in its boughs as Lupin was settled into a sturdy leather armchair at her side. A natural, strong amiability had sprung up between them in the few weeks since term had started. Walking one day to her classrooms, Circe had heard the distant notes of a fast-paced, frantic trumpet solo and had wandered into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom to find Remus bent over his record player. What had started off as a mutual admiration of Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald had quickly blossomed into frequent, often hot debates over their mutual music love. Remus was a quiet, gentle soul but he came alive when he talked about music. It was a refuge in which he found complete joy, and the sadness that tinted his eyes faded for the briefest of moments when he spoke with her about it. Circe recognized the mirror of herself in him. She already considered him to be a firm friend, and he likewise. He also enjoyed winding her up, just a tad...

"When you are a jazz lover, you're an entrepreneur. An explorer of the new and weird."

Circe scoffed and laughed at him, pretending to go back to the book she'd placed on her chest. "That's what they call me. Remus Lupin, colon, Explorer." He waved his hand dramatically in the air, punctuating his jokingly given epithet.

"Colon Explorer?" Circe asked with a cheeky raise of her brow.

"You know what I mean." Remus replied, barely able to suppress a chuckle.

"Nah I think that name's got the wrong 'ring' to it."

They both laughed, Remus having to wipe his eyes with a sleeve of his cardigan.

It had been a difficult year already. Circe's car had been towed off the road by the muggle police before she'd had the opportunity to send word to a recovery breakdown service. The Ministry had been forced to send a few Aurors to cast a few memory charms on the Fort William constabulary, all to avoid Circe being questioned for the dangerous condition it was in. Especially as her license was still registered to Warwickshire, when she'd first got it at eighteen years old. To add on top of the car parlarver, Dementors circled the skies above Hogwarts around the clock, casting a pervasive gloom over the castle like literal black clouds. Everyone, even the staff, felt inexplicably miserable most of the time. Students shuffled about the corridors aimlessly when they'd been too long outside and away from Dumbledore's protective spells, and the work of the teachers seemed to feel more arduous and repetitive than it had been in previous years. Had it not been for Lupin's never exhausted supply of chocolate (which he kept in an old shortbread tin in his office) and his good company, Circe too would have been feeling dismal. Everyone needed a pick-me-up.

"Did Severus give you what you were after?" Lupin asked, taking her empty coffee mug to wash it up for her.

"Yes he did." Circe said with her best nonchalant voice. Yet her steeliness towards Snape seeped through nonetheless and Lupin lingered a moment. He stared at her face as she pretended to read her book, and when she offered him no more he sighed and turned from her.

"You know, you really mustn't let that night with the Dementors change the way you-"

"It's fine, Remus. We're fine. Honestly."

Remus could tell she was lying to him. Circe had been given a few lessons on her timetable in the Potions Department, as a way of "thank you" from Dumbledore for her efforts last year. But Circe rather wished he hadn't. Since that night she'd crashed her car, and Severus had left her to the Dementors, things had been as frosty as a Christmas morning in Svalbard between them. She'd felt, quite rightly, abandoned by him. Left in the lurch by his inaction. Their adventures in the past years had placed them both in the line of fire for one another and Circe had been surprised that Severus had apparently left her to wallow in misery before his eyes. She couldn't help but think that she'd have done it for him…

 _Fuck it, I'd have fought off fifty Dementors for him._ She thought bitterly.

Remus was referring to their CD player. The one that they had squirreled away in the potions storage room, to listen to music together. She'd broken her general rule of only speaking to Severus when absolutely necessary to ask him if it was alright if she took it for her "project". He'd looked at her with a lingering expression of hurt. It was _their_ CD player…

The thing they did together…

And now she wanted to take it away…

He knew that she was disappointed in him after that night. She'd been civil, polite, well-mannered but not her usual self around him. No matter how hard he tried, he could not cut out the image of her rain soaked, tear-stained face looking at him with disenchantment.

" _You didn't come to help me Severus?"_

By God, he wished he had. If it had truly been a choice of Remus knowing of his lingering love for Lily or losing Circe's respect and affections, then he should have chosen the former. The thought of Lupin knowing still filled him with cold dread, but the past was gone, no matter how much it still hurt him. Circe was his present, his now. She didn't deserve to suffer because of a woman who no longer walked this earth. _Fear and regret_ , _always fear and regret,_ he thought solemnly, night after night as he lay restless and sleepless in his bed _._ The two emotions that governed his life. The realization that he had come to had probably come too late. Circe would probably never look at him the same way ever again… And just to rub salt into the wound, he'd had to watch her grow closer to Remus as the weeks had marched on.

_Fear, regret and jealousy. Can't leave out jealousy._

He had left the CD player on her desk in her classroom. He couldn't bear another cold rejection. Another curt "Thank you." and not so much of a second glance his way. As he'd unclenched his hand from the player's handle, he'd turned to leave and seen Remus standing at the classroom's threshold. He couldn't have seen a worse person in that moment, and bright hot envy and resentment soaked through every ounce of his flesh. It worried him to think how exhaustively jealous he felt whenever he even saw Circe near Lupin. And here he was: at his back, when he longed for the presence of her and her alone. He'd barged past Lupin, a feral snarl on his face, to withdraw to his dungeons like some loathsome little bat.

"Well, that's not the impression I got from Severus earlier today." Remus said gently to Circe, recalling his literal run-in with Severus earlier that day. "I'm not much of a confrontational person, but perhaps you should have a word with him…"

"And say what?"

"Oh I don't know. Tell him to come to your thing."

"He wouldn't." Circe said simply, swinging her legs off the hammock. "Actually _enjoying_ things isn't really his style."

Remus went quiet, partially agreeing with Circe's summation of Severus. "Well, maybe he wouldn't enjoy the stuff that _you've_ got planned. Perhaps he'd prefer something a bit edgier from my collection…" Lupin said with a taunting grin.

"You? Edgy? You're about as edgy as a satsuma."

* * *

Circe had garnered a better turnout than she'd originally anticipated. Quite a few students had turned up to her little experiment. The twins Fred and George, Harry and his little cohort of Gryffindor followers, a few of the older Hufflepuff's including Cedric Diggory and his friends, one or two skulking Slytherins amassed in the corner and a choice selection of Circe's Ravenclaw Quidditch team.

 _Forty four..._ she surmised in her head. _And just as I predicted, The Head of Slytherin House isn't here either._

They were a lively bunch, all a-chatter as they waited in Circe's classroom for her to start her endeavour. Fred and George tossed a fizzing whiz-bang in the air between them. Harry watched the spectacle with joy, the bright light of the spark illuminating his face. It suddenly struck Circe how much the boy had grown up over the summer, his previously childish features morphing into something much stronger and more defined.

"He's growing into his face now, isn't he?" Circe grabbed Lupin and gestured to Potter.

"Isn't he rather. Looks like his Dad." Lupin replied to her, that tinge of sadness descending over his eyes like a glaze.

She had regarded Potter and his friends as something of a nuisance in the years gone by. Not fully fledged people, but kids that just got in her way or purposefully put themselves in danger. Granger, out of the three of them, was the one she liked the most given how much of herself she saw in the girl and she surprisingly wasn't here. But as she walked over to the Gryffindors, she resolved to get to know the man The Boy Who Lived was becoming better.

"Afternoon, Gryffindors!" She said brightly to the red-clad students.

"Hullo, Professor." Ron and a few other students replied weakly. Harry smiled at her.

"You ready to go up against the Ravenclaw Quidditch team this term, Potter?" She asked with a challenging smile. Her team responded with a "wheyyy!" at the other end of the room and shouted their own challenges over to the Gryffindors.

"Raring to go, Professor." Harry replied with a bright smile. "If the Ravenclaw Team have learnt how to catch a ball yet..."

"Or stay on their brooms." Fred chipped in.

"Oof you cheeky buggers." Circe said jovially, ruffling Harry's hair.

"So, what's all this about Professor?" Harry asked curiously. "All Professor Mcgonagall told us is that you had something special planned for us."

"Ah, well I'm glad you asked."

Circe turned to the rest of the room. All of them had fallen quiet, eager to listen.

"Hands up if you've felt a bit down and despondent recently."

Every hand in the room shot up.

"Yeah, me too." Circe said, locking eyes with Harry for the briefest of seconds. She'd heard about the attack on the train from Lupin and a wordless understanding passed between them, being the only two people in the room who had been on the other end of a Dementor attack. She wondered what the young boy thought of when that pressing sadness had descended upon him. Her heart ached to think that one so young as Harry could have had so much sorrow to call upon.

"Professor…" a voice asked from the back of the gathered crowd of Gryffindors. Circe craned her head and saw Hermione.

_She'd definitely not been there before…_

"Yes, Miss Granger."

"What exactly are… Dementors?"

"They are amongst the foulest creatures that walk this earth, Miss Granger." Lupin chimed in. "They infest the darkest, filthiest places, like a fungus. They glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope and happiness out of everybody and everything around them."

"But what does it feel like to be… attacked by one?" She asked.

"Hermione-" Harry moaned, trying to silence her. Circe had seen some of the teasing that Potter had withstood after his fainting spell on the train. No doubt, Hermione was trying to get across to her fellow students just how horrible an experience it was and therefore lighten Harry's teasing, but Potter was bright red and truly embarrassed. Malfoy elbowed one of his cronies in the ribs and giggled spitefully.

"I was attacked by a Dementor on my walk up to the castle." Circe butt in swiftly, drawing the attention from Harry. "It's like… Every good feeling, every happy memory you've ever had is sucked out of you. Like nothing will ever make you happy again. You don't want to get up, you don't want to move, you don't want to exist particularly. I suppose that's why they're guardians of a prison. It just makes you feel like existing is hard work enough."

Unbeknownst to Circe, Snape listened to the gathering at the door, hidden from view. He dared not go in, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him nonetheless. He wanted to find out what Circe was up to with _their_ CD player. Yet his heart ached as he heard Circe's summation of her night in the rain. _You left her to that._ He thought, punishing himself.

"So why had Dumbledore got them hovering over the castle all day every day?" Seamus Finnegan asked with irritation in his voice.

"Well there is a mass murderer on the loose. And the protective spells keep us safe-"

"So why is it I feel miserable a lot of the time? Aren't there other protections on the castle apart from having those things hanging over our heads?" He asked again. Circe frowned in sympathy. Yes, the protective barriers were there to keep the Dementors away and for most people, it kept them chipper enough. But Circe had noticed how much more irritable people tended to be, how quick to anger or morose many staff and students were. The protective barriers varied wildly in how effective they were from person to person.

"Well, that's why I'm here." Circe said, walking over to her CD player. "I suppose many of you in here have memories of things that you'd rather forget… but I wanted to share with you all the thing that saved me from my darkest moments. The thing that keeps my soul full and contented, even when I'm suffering. With maybe a mind that it could help you too in this strange time."

"What, Professor?" Harry asked her, his attention rapt.

"Music."

Somewhere at the back of the room, Draco Malfoy scoffed. "Muggle music." He sneered.

"Music expresses that which cannot be put into words, and that which cannot remain silent. Victor Hugo said that." She said, fixing the blonde haired boy with a fierce look. "If that isn't some form of sorcery, then I don't know what is."

"So this is what? A muggle music appreciation club?" Cedric Diggory asked with a cynical brow.

"I suppose, yes."

Diggory smirked and nodded to his friend at his side.

 _Well at least one person's vaguely interested,_ Circe thought to herself.

"Will it help?" Seamus asked her again. Circe paused, looking into his young face. Perhaps he was feeling the effects of the Dementors the most out of his peers.

"I… can't always guarantee that it will. Sometimes it'll make you feel worse for a while."

"Oh how ridiculous. Knew the specky four eyes would peddle some muggle claptrap at us." Malfoy said with a vicious spike to Crabbe and Goyle.

"Mr Malfoy that is incredibly disrespectful to your Professor. Ten points from Slytherin!" Lupin shouted at him. Circe tried not to let the child's comment get to her, but it still stung. No doubt Malfoy Senior had told him to undermine Circe at every given opportunity after their spiky conversation last year. Draco gathered his cronies and went storming from the room. Snape had to hide himself from them as they approached, ducking round the door out of their sight.

"But you come out the other end the better for it, right Professor?" Harry offered, casting an eye back to the CD player.

"Right. I said this to a… friend once, Potter." Circe said as she picked up a CD. "Music is magic and magic is life."

Severus clutched at his chest, her words hitting him like a brick.

"Cheesy." George muttered to his twin.

"Prime cheddar." Fred agreed.

"Well, tell us what you have for us then Professor." Diggory asked eagerly. As he stepped forward, his Hufflepuff friends followed, their interest peaked.

"Uhh.. right." Circe muttered as she shuffled through a few cases, eyeing up the track lists on the back. What to start with? She hadn't thought that far ahead… "Rem- um, Professor Lupin, what do I start with?" She looked up at him expectantly, a small flash of panic in her eyes.

"How about… something that you have a good, happy memory connected with?" he said with kind eyes.

Circe thought for a while, and looked at the collection in front of her. A flash of inspiration hit as her hand settled on an old case.

"Right. Picture this, kiddies. It's nineteen eighty eight, Professor Smith is fresh out of University. The tender age of twenty one… or maybe I was twenty two. Anyway, I had next to no money but what I did have I saved for a trip I'd planned that summer with my… now ex boyfriend. I even did a few ghost tours for tourists in Edinburgh's underground city in the summer, dressed up as Mary Queen of Scots. So, when I'd scrimped and saved my way to a plane ticket and the cheapest motel we could afford, we were on our way to New York! First time over the pond! Stateside, baby! New York, New York! But my ex wanted to see a baseball game. Big fan of the Boston Red Sox he was, and they're playing the Yankees on our first night there. Now, I'm tired, jet lagged, and not particularly into sports. I've never even been to a football match before. But I agree, and spend what little money I had on a ticket. So we're sitting in the stands, with the customary ridiculously sized foam finger and a literal bucket of popcorn. There must be fifty thousand people around us. At least. I'm dozing off, almost falling asleep in my coke. And then the anthem for the Red Sox comes over the stadium…"

Circe closed the CD player and turned up the volume. Everybody listened, taken in by Circe's story. As the music started, very few seemed to recognize it.

"Ahh! Cracker of a song!" Remus said, beaming from ear to ear.

" _Where it began, I can't begin to knowing._

_But then I know it's growing strong"_

"I used to listen to this one in the Gryffindor common room with your Mum and Dad and… other people." Remus said to Harry.

" _Was in the spring. And spring became the summer._

 _Who'd have believed you'd come along_."

"Wait, I think I know this. Me mam had it at her weddin' to my step-dad." Seamus said to Ron, sat at his side, as a glimmer of recognition passed over his face.

" _Hands, touching hands…_ "

"Fifty thousand people singing this together in that stadium. Red Sox and Yankee supporters alike..."

" _Reaching out, touching me._

_Touching you."_

In a moment of pure independent and spontaneous joy, Cedric and Seamus, the tune now known to them, jumped into the center of the room, dragging a few of their cohort with them. They shouted the chorus loudly, bouncing on their feet together, both of their faces lined with a broad smile.

" _Sweet Caroline, BAH BAH BAHH_!

 _Good times never seemed so good_ "

Fred and George followed, never ones to be left out when making loud noises was permitted. Then after them, Ron and Harry and the Ravenclaws. All coming together to sing-shout the chorus. Until they were a huddle of bouncing, singing people.

" _I've been inclined. BAH BAH BAHH!_

_To believe they never would,_

_But now I…"_

Severus looked through the crack through the door, watching the scene of pure joy before him. His eyes found Circe, dancing with the students, mouthing the words to Lupin and he back to her as he swayed on his feet.

" _Look at the night and it don't seem so lonely_

_We filled it up with only two."_

His vision turned cloudy as vicious jealousy ate away at his insides.

" _And when I hurt_

_Hurting runs off my shoulders_

_How can I hurt when holding you?"_

Lupin took her into a spin as they both laughed. Snape's view of them was blocked as Fred and George waltzed by them in a dramatic tango together. He couldn't stay and watch any longer and slinked off into the darkness as the song continued, ringing cruelly in his ears.

" _One, touching one_

_Reaching out, touching me, touching you…!_

_Sweet Caroline_

_Good times never seemed so good_

_I've been inclined_

_To believe they never would._

_Sweet Caroline_

_Good times never seemed so good_

_Sweet Caroline_

_I believed they never could…."_


	21. You will never understand how it feels to live your life with no meaning or control."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Smutty smut smut.
> 
> A small anachronism as Common People wasn't released until 95. But this is one of my favorite songs of all time and NO ONE CAN TELL ME THAT LYCANTHROPY IN HP ISN'T A METAPHOR FOR CLASS STRUGGLE AND SYSTEMIC POVERTY. so I had to have it for this chapter... sorry.

_Chapter 21- "You will never understand how it feels to live your life with no meaning or control."_

" _Circe…"_ a voice whispered in the dark. It was hypnotic, it called to her.

A great, heavy boom shook the dreamscape and she felt the serpentine slither in the floor beneath her. Circe dreamt again that she was in an old, high walled bookshop in an ancient city. Yet she was sat at a table not unlike her little corner of the Hogwarts library where she'd spent many an hour. She sometimes had nightmares of the Basilisk stalking her, and for a moment when she heard the dull thudding and wet slither in the walls and under the floor, she thought this would be such a dream.

" _Circe…" t_ he voice called again with a tinge of sickly hissing.

The monster's growls shook the books in the high-walled shelves around her and rattled the glass of her amber lantern at her desk as a nauseating dread pooled in her stomach. But the sounds of the monster dwindled away to soft, purposeful foot falls, and her terrorised heart quietened. She was about to rise from her little cubby hole when the familiar swish of a black cape caught the corner of her eye.

 _What are you looking for, Severus_? She asked again, as she had done many times, chasing him through these halls of knowledge and paper. But to her surprise, as she moved to follow him, from out of the rich velveteen darkness stepped Severus. He floated into the orange glow of her lantern, his features illuminated in striking ocherous light. He looked at her with an arresting passion in his black eyes that left her breathless. His striking nose cast deep shadows across his face. She was stunned, this was the first time that dream-Severus had ever confronted her and he walked towards Circe, touching a hand to hers in the way he had done that long ago night when he'd found her asleep in the library. Circe felt her chest ache at the memory it invoked and no sooner had she thought of what could have happened on that night, the fantasy came alive for her.

Severus reached up into her thick hair, tugging her head back. He took her face forcefully in his hands and kissed her. It was so sudden, but so long overdue and Circe wanted to weep with longing for him. He pinned her against a bookshelf, his desperate kisses growing fiercer as his hands clasped over her breasts. Circe moaned into his open mouth, the intensity of the dream making her feel every trace of his fingers, every move of his tongue. She tore away at his clothes and the dream-haze had them both open for one another in a second. Severus hoisted her up and her legs wrapped around him. Her sex ached, throbbing against his waist as Severus kissed at her breasts. Her veins sang as his tongue teased at her nipples, setting every goosebump on her body on edge.

Her hands pulled at his black hair, and Circe tugged at him just as he had, raising his head up and locking gazes with her once more. She did not need to say out loud what she wanted. It was him. All of him.

He looked up at her with an awfully licentious smile. So unlike Severus and yet something her unconscious mind had conjured with frightening realism. He took her away from the bookshelf and placed her on the table, climbing on top of her in moments as Circe lay her back flat against the wooden surface. She still gripped onto him with her legs wrapped around him, the thought of having his growing hardness away from her unbearable. Her hands traveled down to his bulge and she stroked at it as Severus moaned to her touch. She unclasped him and she felt him spring forth into her palm.

" _Please, please Severus…"_ she whispered to him.

He rose up, looking down at her with that contemptuous glare she had come to love. He tugged her close to him so she almost hung off the table. Then, Severus was inside her and she gasped loudly, feeling every inch of him deliciously fill her. He raised her legs over his shoulders and the feeling of his cock inside her intensified. It sent her into raptures of pleasure each time he withdrew himself and slammed against her. She grasped at the table's edge, the only thing occupying her mind was Severus mercilessly fucking her. His hand clung on to her thigh, biting into her flesh and the other roamed to her clit as he began delicately caressing it with his deft fingers.

" _Oh, God…"_ she moaned, her pleasure reaching new heights. She felt her orgasm building, Severus watching her beautifully squirm under his ice-cold stare.

And then her alarm went off.

Circe lurched upright in her bed. The feeling of wetness and a throbbing desire between her legs. Her alarm clock rang savagely from her bedside table and she wanted to throw the damn thing against the wall. She turned off the cruel noise and lay back down on her pillows with an exasperated sigh. It was six-thirty all ready and she needed to get up, otherwise Minerva would be banging on her door, asking after her. She clasped a hand over her vagina and shivered, the dream still vivid and fresh in her mind. It seemed that no matter how much her waking mind was still angry and hurt with Severus, her unconscious thoughts still wanted to taunt her with her lust. As much as she wanted to pretend that she hated him, her dream had proven otherwise.

 _Great, so we're in to sex dream territory now are we?_ She asked her subconscious frustratedly.

She didn't want to want him, but she did. The slickness between her legs was lingering proof of that. She felt almost close to tears as she started at the canopy of her bed, Severus's face floating in the ether before her.

 _This is utterly ridiculous...Just… just try and forget about it._ She thought to herself as she got up.

A quick wash down in the bathroom removed any lingering evidence of her erotic night, and as the dream slipped into daylight, the vividness of it seemed to burn away too. There was no way she was just going to forget about Severus's decision to leave her to the Dementors, no matter how much she wanted to jump his bones… But it certainly would make the lingering looks she'd caught him casting at her and Remus a little more awkward to bear. As she turned off the taps, the hiss of water made a part of her dream come screaming back into her subconscious.

_The voice. The hissing voice…_

" _Circe…"_

Something about the echo of that voice in her waking mind made her shiver. Who was it? Who was it who called to her when her defenses were dropped and silence disappeared into sleep. What had been a wonderfully narcotic sensation that the voice conjured within her now unsettled her more that it should have. Perhaps even more unsettling was that as Circe stared at herself in the bathroom's mirror, she realises that voice had been in quite a few of her dreams over the summer. Always disembodied. Always hypnotic. Always put her in an uneasy mood when she eventually woke.

She dressed quickly and put on a splash of makeup to try and add the color back into her face. No matter how her dreams unsettled her, the school day would go on regardless. She decided to skip breakfast and instead go and take some air in the grounds. She pulled on a pair of sturdy boots and donned a light jacket, before throwing her satchel bag over her shoulder. It was unseasonably warm for late September, but there was still a chill to the morning as Circe walked the length of the wooden bridge and emerged out into the standing stones circle. A few hares startled and scattered at her presence, hopping off into the low hanging mist that still settled in the valleys of the Highlands. Circe took a deep breath in and drank up the cool, crisp sensation of the morning air, the moon and a few tenacious stars still visible in the violet sky above her. She felt her peace coming back to her as she watched the golden sun touch the top of the towers of Hogwarts.

A shriek in the forbidden forest made her jump. Her eyes immediately darted towards the noise, just out of sight behind Hagrid's hut. The morning mist still shrouded the little house in a thin veil, but Circe noted that the lack of smoke from the Giant's chimney must have meant he was already up and out. She jogged down to the forest's edge and called out cautiously.

"Hagrid…? Hagrid..?!"

The shriek came again, high pitched and loud and Circe followed it to a small clearing. She saw Hagrid, his broad back turned against her as he tended to something she couldn't quite see.

"Hagrid." She said with a smile, walking towards him. He turned around with a look of surprise, holding two dead ferrets in his hands. As he stepped to the side, Circe saw what he had been distracted by. "Oh my God, is that a Hippogriff?" She asked, stopping dead in her tracks.

The animal was huge, imposing, radiating pride and power, and it looked at Circe with a curious tilt of his head. His yellow eyes looked through Circe, summing her up in a single blink, and did not look away. The metal chain attached to his neck clattered as he stirred uneasily at her presence.

"Stop there!" Hagrid said suddenly. Circe did as he said. The Hippogriff flapped its wings defensively and stamped a cloven hoof.

"Hagrid, what do I do?" she asked in a whisper.

"Oh, this'll be good practise fer later…. Umm.. Bow, nice n' low. Don't break eye contact."

Circe did as he instructed. After another loud squawk from the Hippogriff that almost had her bolting, the bird too bowed it's head to Circe and resumed its interest in the ferrets in Hagrid's hands. Circe sighed, deeply relieved and moved to Hagrid's side.

"Good Lord, Hagrid, this is a bit over the top for a first lesson isn't it?" She watched the Giant feed a ferret to the animal as he laughed heartily. She was, of course, happy that Hagrid had been given the vacant Care of Magical Creatures position. Truly she could think of no one better for the job, but where the hell had he got a Hippogriff? Surely he'd have been better starting off small and working up.

_Like a pygmy puff or a niffler, for heaven's sake. What's going to be next week's lesson? A bloody Thunderbird?_

"I wanted t'make a good first impression. Ain't he beautiful."

"Gorgeous." Circe said, watching the magical creature munching away at his breakfast.

"D'ye want to touch him?"

Circe's eyes widened. "What?"

"C'mere." Hagrid gestured her over to his front and stood at her back as she faced the Hippogriff. He took her hand and outstretched it towards the animal, guiding her slowly closer to his neck. Circe flinched as the animal seemed to growl in alarm, but Hagrid held her firm. The inches between them slowly closed in and Circe's finger eventually brushed against the wonderfully soft and dappled feathers of the animal's neck.

"What's his name?" she said quietly.

"Buckbeak."

"Buckbeak…" she echoed, smiling brightly as she tickled at the back of his head. The great bird leaned into her hand, enjoying the fussing he was getting. Hagrid backed slowly away, watching them both carefully.

"Oh Hagrid, you're going to show me up, having him as a lesson's subject! No ancient runic textbook is ever going to be as exciting as this."

"Ahh, different strokes fer different folks, ent it. Your subject's different t'mine. I could never do what you do, all those symbols an' history to remember…"

"Pfft! Makes me feel very boring!"

"You are prob-ly the least borin' individual that I know!"

"What? You mean, including the woman who can turn into a cat, the most powerful wizard in the world, a boy who survived a killing curse when he was one, and the Potions Master who looks like the lead singer from 'Nine Inch Nails'?"

"I saw yer picture in the Prophet!" Hagrid said with a cheeky smile. "Didn't understand a lot o'the words that went with it, but y' looked like you weren't some fuddy-duddy moth-eaten bookish Professor."

"What can I say? I'm a woman of two worlds." Circe returned his grin, backing away from the animal. _Always have been._ She added internally.

Always duplicitous. Always straddling the space in between two worlds. Magical and muggle. Music and academia. Part of both but feeling not wholly belonging to either. And recently it seemed she was skirting the boundaries of being grounded and flighty. Her head was somewhere else a lot of the time. This morning was a prime example of that. She felt like she was constantly stuck in that moment of longing when you looked up from a book and pictured yourself in that time or in that moment that you'd just read. Perhaps that was how the Dementors were affecting her; making her feel like she wasn't quite part of this world. Remus and the Muggle Music Appreciation Club (or MMAP for short) were doing their best to ground her and she was thankful for the friendship Lupin in particular offered, but her confidence in her place in the wizarding world had been shaken by Severus.

 _Severus… possibly the only person here just as duplicitous as me._ She thought. Her mind again wandered back to her dream that night and she felt herself colouring red.

"I'll keep my fingers crossed for you today, Hagrid." she said, moving to leave the clearing. "Good luck and all that."

"Cheers Circe." the giant said thankfully.

Circe made a swift exit as she started the walk back to the castle. She hoped that the chill morning air would be enough to drive the heat away from her cheeks. She decided to take the long way back and do a round of the castle's perimeter to try and clear her head. She cast an eye up to the sky and saw the black dots of a few Dementors peppering the rapidly blueing sky. Circe groaned and tried to think of a happy memory for a patronus, if she should need one.

 _See, the trouble with 'happy' memories is that they're so easy to corrupt._ She thought morosely. _That memory I told the MMAP, ruined by the boy who I was there with after we broke up. What did I think of the last time I conjured one?_

Her feet took her over to the outside of the greenhouses as she mentally dove backwards. _When I was with Severus, in the Stone's protection chambers. I thought of my first Christmas here._ She smiled, the memory still strong. But was it happy? _Certainly feels less so now, especially when I think of Trent-bloody-Reznor there too._

The sound of quiet, hushed voices made her stop her paces and freeze. She recognised both voices immediately and after a few second's searching, saw that the hushed words were coming from a secluded place behind the greenhouse next to her.

 _Remus and Severus?_ She queried internally, ducking low as to remain out of sight through the clear glass walls. Circe had seen enough dagger-sharp glances and snide comments from Snape to have garnered that Remus was also on his ever-expanding list of "people he was not on fantastic terms with". Circe knew Severus was jealous of the relationship that had grown up between her and Lupin, and whilst she'd not actively done anything to encourage the thought that there was anything more than a fierce friendship between her and Remus, she'd not exactly gone out of her way to prove otherwise either. Not that she knew why Snape would care either way…

"I appreciate this, Severus." she heard Remus say from her hiding spot.

"I am not doing this out of any warm feelings for you, believe me." Snape replied in his cruel drawl.

"Well… nevertheless, your efforts help me to live somewhat of a normal life."

"You do know that the ingredients for wolfsbane are eye-wateringly expensive and are costing the school a huge amount of funds each month?"

 _Wolfsbane?!_ Circe clasped her hand over her mouth in shock. _That can only mean..._

"Yes, I am fully aware of how costly they are. I was financially crippled by their price before I-"

"Before you were pulled off the streets like some Dickensian orphan by Dumbledore?"

 _Oh, Severus..._ Circe chided him silently from her spot of concealment. She knew that it was often Snape's default to be harsh, but it had been such a long time that he had shown that side of him to her, it unsettled her slightly to know it was still there, bubbling just under the surface.

"Well, it appears that you and I are _both_ Dumbledore's foundlings now, doesn't it, Severus."

"I am not like you, you filthy, evil-"

"Now Severus, let's not start fights. We both know what happened last time you tried to start a fight with a werewolf..."

There it was. The word sat heavy in the air, rattling around Circe's head like a pinball machine. More secrets, more enigmas, more mysteries, more duplicitousness. Circe's heart beat like a tiny drum against her breastbone as she realised that's where Lupin's facial scars had come from, why he had next to no money or possessions, why he was normally so quiet and reserved; He'd suffered a lifetime of persecution and rejection, the rights of any living soul to live and work without abuse and oppression denied to him. Seen by most of the wizarding world as some kind of half-breed. A danger to be kept at arm's length. Yet Circe found herself thinking, hoping, that Severus was not one of those people, and his earlier words were just an initial spew of vitriol.

_Surely Severus isn't that ignorant..._

"It… it was you…In the shrieking shack… when Black told me how to get past the Whomping Willow in school..."

The words meant little to Circe, but the fear that laced Severus's voice was enough to set the hairs on her own arms on edge.

"That was not my wish that Sirius did that, but-"

"I almost died! You would have torn me limb from limb if… if."

"If James hadn't saved your skin. Or can you still not bear to acknowledge that, Severus?"

Circe heard the smash of glass and she knew Severus had thrown a flask to the ground in his rage. Again, the mention of Potter bringing out a nasty, violent side to him.

"Severus, please…!" Remus pleaded. It sounded like Snape had smashed one of the vials of wolfsbane.

"You _might_ just about have enough to see you through this month's transformation." Severus hissed nastily. "If not… well lets hope Dumbledore holds enough sway with the governors to cover up for you when you inevitably maul a student to death."

 _Right. Me and you are having words, Professor Snape._ Circe thought determinately as she hurried away from her hiding spot before either of the men could discover her.

* * *

Circe could feel Severus's eyes on her as she entered the Potions classroom that lunchtime. She made a point of walking straight past his desk as he marked his essays, their CD player in her hand. Of course, his eyes followed her around the room, lingering on the sway of her hips, the smell of her as she passed by sending him spinning, as she tried to play cool. Her mind too wandered back to the rather compromising position he had put her in in her dream that night on a similar looking work surface...Her work in the potions storage room was menial and could have been done another time, but she plugged in the device as loudly as she could and placed a CD in the top, and waited…

He was at the threshold in minutes. His presence cast a deep shadow over her back, blocking the light by which she saw. The album began its play and Snape stood as still as a boulder.

"What's this one?" He asked cautiously. Circe smiled to herself.

"Something the MMAP recommended to me. Pulp." She responded, not turning from her bench to look at him. She busied herself with setting out her ingredients as Severus watched her astutely.

Severus was baffled. She was here, in his lunch hour, and she had brought back the music.

 _Why?_ He thought as he watched the green glow of the storage room playing off her curls, almost making her look like she had a nest of Medusan snakes on her head. _Perhaps she has forgiven me._

His heart soared at that thought. Truly, he had not forgiven himself and he longed to have her back in his world. Yet she still seemed off with him, but it didn't matter, she was here when she didn't need to be… Circe hadn't even turned to look at him yet, whereas he couldn't bear to take his eyes from her in case she should disappear like a mirage. The music, her here again, his spirits lifted. Was this that final euphoric best people experienced before death? If this could have been his forever, the last thing he remembered before death, he would die a happy man. It was a precarious happiness but it was enough.

 _Oh, but a single look from you could send me into that goodnight._ Severus thought. He caught himself pining and coloured red, embarrassed at his own thoughts.

He cleared his throat and pretended to examine the CD she'd put on.

"So this is what they're listening to in your little jukebox sessions?" he asked, eyeing it up.

"Mmm. The album's good. They've got some really interesting things to say about… hardship and poverty." Circe said side-eyeing him.

"Right…" Snape responded, unsure of how to proceed. He pretended to busy himself with the bottles on the shelves.

 _Okay, I'm going to have to get more on-the-nose with this._ Circe thought as she cast him another sly glance.

"How are… how are our supplies of monkshood?" She asked coquettishly.

Severus frowned. Why has she used the archaic name for wolfsbane? And why was she asking about it at all? It wasn't on the curriculum for any of the school years…

"They are… currently a bit dwindled. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, how odd. Well I'll have to order some in. Gosh that will be an expensive inventory stock up…"

"Yes…"

"Wow… Imagine if an individual had to fork out for that each month."

She paused, staring daggers into his back. Severus's frown deepened and he turned sharply to face her. Circe nonchalantly went back to her work, eyes cast downwards. He turned around again slowly, his head buzzing with thoughts. Circe couldn't help but smirk at her causing visible confusion to Severus. She took a deep breath, ready to deliver the final blow.

"If I order it today, do you think it'll get here… before the full moon?"

Severus's eyes almost popped out of his head.

"How did you find out, Smith?" Severus said sharply, thumping down the bottles he'd been toying with.

"Oh are you not going to _throw_ those bottles at me, Snape?!" She spat back, finally turning to face him.

"Skulking about in the shadows _again,_ were you?" He asked, his temper flaring. "Didn't your… family ever tell you it's rude to eavesdrop?" He had been about to say "mother".

Didn't your mother ever tell you… but he had faltered at the last moment and Circe caught his hesitance.

"You're being a damn site more considerate to me than you were to Lupin this morning." Circe said, trying to appeal to his better side. She knew he could be kind when he wanted to be. She'd just seen him choose to not pick at a wound of hers. Spare her and show kindness and understanding.

Severus's blood ran hot at the mention of Remus's name and the kind, imploring look that descended over Circe's face. His previously contented little heart became overrun with jealousy once more.

"Oh please, you're embarrassing yourself. Coming to the aid of a werewolf because you have a soft spot for him." He leaned in close to her, baring his teeth in disgust.

Circe stepped back, feeling her whole face go bright red. She decided to ignore his attempt to bait her with his implications.

"Oh, I really don't think _I'm_ the one who should be embarrassed having overheard how you behaved this morning."

"How _I_ beh-" Severus choked back his incredulity. "He is a _monster!_ An animal. He's some inhuman half-breed who'd kill you if-"

"Severus, stop it!" She shouted. "You are better than this. Me and you… we can't possibly know what Remus has been through. Can we ever really understand what it must feel like for him to have no control over his life because of how others treat him? Nowhere for him to go that's safe. Even at our worst, poorest moments we've always had someone who we could have gone to for help or respite. Did he? And calling him a "half-breed"-"

"My my, what a white knight of justice you are." Severus interrupted, her words doing little to quieten the burning hatred and jealousy he held for Lupin.

"Look, I get it. Everybody hates a tourist, Severus. Especially ones that think that hardship is "cool" but _surely_ you must know that we as people will be judged by how we treat the least among us."

 _She's right…_ he conceded to himself, but he'd be damned if he let her know that.

"Do you even realise that he almost killed m-" He choked on the words, the vicious growls and scrapes from the other side of the Shrieking Shack's door coming back to him in a horrible memory flash. "H-He would kill you too if it weren't for the potion I make for him!" he stuttered.

"And that's why I know that you know better, Severus. You choose to help him."

"So why confront me at all with your stupid little lecture?" he growled, inching closer to her again. "You should be fine to have your little midnight rendez-vous with him after all."

Circe felt her anger bubble over. "Okay, what is your problem, Severus? Why do you even-?"

"It's very you, isn't it." he said derisively. "Flirt with the underclass, pretend that you're some kind of bohemian starving artist. Some musician slumming it with the disadvantaged so you can play at being Bob Dylan or Geldof. Make good songwriting material, will it?"

"Fuck you!" Circe said shoving him backwards. He'd touched a tender nerve, pulling at the thoughts of unbelonging she'd had recently. _Pretend. Play. Flirt with._

Severus hit the shelves and one or two bottles rattled in their places as he reeled. He recovered quickly and looked at her in shocked indignation. Circe's nostrils flared in anger as she looked at him with a fire in her eyes like she was staring down a lion.

"I thought the best of you Severus, despite everything…" she said hoarsely. "And you clearly can't return the same courtesy to me."

Severus strode towards her with a tenacity and a severity that made her gasp. Circe stepped backwards as he approached her, only stopping when her back too hit the shelf behind her like Severus had done. A bottle of billywig slime went crashing to the floor, but neither moved. They were both left gasping, inches away from one another as they stared intently into each other's eyes. Severus raised a hand slowly to her neck and lay his fingers gently on top of her skin. It was an act of possession. Of deep, deep wanting.

"I wonder what it would take for you to fight for me like that." he said quietly. He stared at her moist, full lips, hanging open in anticipation before him. For him.

"I am. Right now."

He leaned forward…

"Professors? Everything alright in there? I heard glass smash…"

The door to the potions room swung open and there, standing on the other side was Neville Longbottom. He looked quite taken-aback, given the rather intimate moment he had just walked in on. Severus dropped his hand in an instant and looked to the floor in mortification.

"Out…" he muttered.

"But sir, we have a lesson now-"

"OUT!" Severus roared, rounding on him.

The boy cried out and scampered away from Snape's feral charge. Circe took a tentative step away from the shelf, her foot crunching against the broken glass on the floor. Snape's head snapped to attention at the sound, but he dared not look at her. Circe swallowed, trying to rid herself of the lump that had risen in her throat.

"I… I better go." she said meekly.

No reply came from Severus, and after a few tense moments of watching his shoulders rhythmically moving up and down, she gathered her remaining pride and moved to leave. As she passed him he cleared his throat awkwardly and she stopped.

"You… might want to tell him that sugar makes it ineffectual. The potion, I mean." Severus said quietly. "I know he often puts it in his tea."

"I'll tell him…. I mean… I'll also have to tell him that I know he's a-"

"He didn't tell you?" Snape asked, genuinely surprised. _Surely that's something he would have disclosed if they were fucking._

"No." she said simply. Circe smiled to herself and thought of something appropriately tart and teasing for him. "I mean we haven't had any "midnight rendez-vous"... but then again, there's only been one full moon so far this year, hasn't there…"

Severus looked at her, his jealousy flaring again.

Circe winked at him and left.


	22. "I want a perfect soul."

"Circe, I wish you hadn't said anything to Snape." Lupin said exasperatedly. He took one end of a desk and Circe grabbed the other. They hoisted the last of the tables out of the way, clearing space in his classroom.

"So you're more irritated that I told Snape off than at the fact I found out you're a werewolf?" She said incredulously.

"Shh! The students will be here any minute!" Remus quietened her. "True. I admittedly would have liked to have told you myself when I was comfortable doing so but… Life's rich tapestry and all that." Remus added with a large roll of the eyes.

"Well what was I meant to do? Let him go on bullying you?" Circe asked with a cynical raise of her brow.

"We both know that Severus will just concentrate his efforts elsewhere."

"He better bloody not." Circe said shortly. "Otherwise he'll have me to answer to."

Lupin laughed, perching on the end of the last desk. "You know… I wish I had more people like you who had my back in the outside world. Perhaps I would have spent less nights on the streets then."

"You would always have been welcome in my flat in Edinburgh, Remus." She said, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Couch surfing." He said despondently. "Did plenty of that too."

"With who?"

"Lily and James for a while. And, of course, with Sirius before he…" He trailed off as he saw the look of surprise on Circe's face.

"I thought Severus mentioned Black's name!" She said with ripped delight.

Lupin groaned and walked to his desk to sort through some papers evasively.

"You knew him?" Circe asked, folding her arms.

"He was...My closest friend."

"So in that year that was you, Sirius, James, Lily-"

"And Peter Pettigrew."

"Him? Oh, I was going to say Severus."

"Severus despised us all."

"Because James and Sirius bullied him, I know. Why though?"

"I think it was apparent, especially to James that he had… Well… A bit of a crush on Lily."

Circe felt her face drain of colour. Her stomach lurched as she leapt up from the desk.

"Lily Potter?"

"And you know how Severus can be. He is difficult to work with now. Imagine what he was like as a petulant teenager squaring up against other petulant teenagers as we were."

"No, wait. Go back to what you said before. Severus liked Lily Potter?"

"Evans, she was then. I believe they grew up in the same town in the Midlands. Cokeworth, I think it was called."

Circe had to sit down again. She had grown up not far from Cokeworth herself. Her Dad still lived about forty minutes from it still. But what was worse was the revelation of exactly why Severus skirted around issues to do with the Potters, why talking about them made him agitated and awful to be around. Something within her also suspected that the sad, haunted look in Severus's eyes was connected to the late Lily Potter too. She didn't know why it shook her so much. But she felt like weeping. Like collapsing in on herself like a dying star.

_Do you really think Severus never had another thought for anyone before you turned up here? God, do you even know that Severus thinks about you the way you think about him at all?_

This felt different to the run-of-the-mill jealousy she'd felt before for other potential lovers. She didn't feel jealous. She felt sad. Frightened. Like Severus's past was this great, insurmountable mountain and she was a mere molehill beside it. The dead were often placed on a pedestal. The memory of them becomes so ingrained into your psyche that it almost becomes a wholly different entity to who they really were. She'd admittedly done the same with her mother, until now she couldn't really tell someone what Phoebe Rogers was like if they asked. Of course it had to be Lily Potter; the graceful, beautiful, saintly martyr who died bravely protecting her son from an evil tyrant.

_How can I ever compete with her?_

"Circe, are you alright?" Remus asked gently.

The massive old wardrobe that Remus had at the front of the classroom rattled, stopping Circe from answering him.

"What's in there?" She asked, trying to stop her legs from shaking.

"Boggart."

"Oh God." Circe said with a grimace. "Who for?"

"The Third Years. Harry's class."

"Is that a good idea?" She asked, giving Lupin a worried look.

"What do you mean?"

Circe opened her mouth to answer when the first of the students came shuffling into the classroom. She turned to leave.

"Professor Smith, why don't you stay? If you have a spare hour, that is." Remus called after her quickly.

"I… um. Alright." She took a seat at the back of the room whilst the students coalesced together in the classroom's center.

She saw Draco Malfoy enter with his arm in a crisp white sling and sneered at the boy's back. Hagrid had come in tears to her and Minerva's rooms after the incident with Buckbeak. They'd both sat him down in the conservatory with a strong Irish coffee, whipped up by Mcgonagall as Circe handed him tissues. Malfoy Senior was out for blood after the "maiming" of his son, Hagrid had told them. He'd also called some of his more senior friends in the Ministry to summon a hearing around the animal's future and Hagrid's teaching integrity for allowing students to be in the presence of a dangerous creature such as a Hippogriff. It was an "I told you so" moment that Circe wished she'd never had. Nor would she ever dream of saying such a thing to the Giant as she rubbed his back whilst he soaked tissue after tissue in their conservatory. From the rumours she'd heard around the school, Malfoy hadn't done as he'd been told and that's probably why he'd been clobbered.

 _Pity we're not still in the days when we considered beatings to be "character building"._ Circe thought rather cruelly.

Remus changed to his professorly persona and ushered the class closer to the wardrobe. Circe couldn't help but watch as he talked to the students, fascinated at how her friend's teaching style was so charismatic and confident. It was always interesting watching a friend teach; how their persona changed when students were in front of them, the tone of their voice, the little habits they fell in to like over-emoting with their hands or saying "okay?" too much. As Remus explained the creature that lay within the wardrobe, Circe was glad that she had him to distract her from thoughts of Lily and Severus. She wandered over to the back of the room and peered out into the corridor for any last-minute stragglers. She saw Hermione disappear into the classroom at the other end of the corridor and closed the door.

"So the first question we must ask ourselves is, what _is_ a Boggart?" Remus asked the class.

"It's a shapeshifter. It will take the form of whatever frightens us the most." said a fememine voice from the crowd of students. Circe blanched as she maneuvered herself to see the person who had just answered Lupin's question.

 _Hermione…?! But I thought I just saw…_ She turned back to the corridor and blinked. _Perhaps it was another girl with bushy hair…_ She theorised, taking off her glasses and giving them a clean. Perhaps it was time she went to the opticians.

"Precisely. Couldn't have put it better myself." Lupin congratulated her. He went on to explain how to repel the Boggart and the correct charm to use, before placing the students into a neat line. He leaned in close to Neville, whispering instructions into the boy's ear and Circe watched a flash of surprise pass over the boy's face.

"You want me to do what, sir?" Neville couldn't help but flick his eyes towards Circe and she blushed a little, remembering the rather compromising position he had found her and Severus in a few days ago.

"You heard me." Remus said grinning widely at the boy. "Professor… will you do us the honours?" he called over to Circe, waving a sleeve at his gramophone. Circe snapped to attention and strode over to the vinyl player.

She cast a glance down to the old record and smiled.

 _The sly devil, he's got me playing jazz to them._ She thought, pursing her lips together in defeat as she cast Lupin a tart look. Lupin returned her glance with a smile and another gesture towards the vinyl. She sighed and turned back to the record, getting the turntable spinning and placing the needle on the record of Glen Miller's 'In the Mood'. Remus tapped his toes and bobbed slightly to the upbeat tune, and Circe tutted as she smirked irksomely at him.

"Ahh, wonderful choice Professor!" he said.

"Mmm, yes my Nan loves this one…" she responded flatly.

As music filled the classroom, Remus strode over to the wardrobe and flung open the door. It seemed like everybody held their breaths as they waited for the Boggart to appear. Circe was taken completely aback when Severus emerged from the wardrobe, staring murderously at poor Neville. Longbottom whimpered and visibly flinched as Snape took each step closer to him.

"Neville, we're going to back away and let you take this one. Remember what I told you." Remus said reassuringly to him. Neville raised his wand in front of him, shaking slightly. "On the count of three. One- Two- Three!"

"Rrrrr-ridikulus!"

Snape reeled back as the spell hit home. In lieu of his traditional head to toe black attire, he was now wearing a beige lace dress, paired with a pendulously swinging red handbag and a great chapeau topped with a moth-eaten taxidermied vulture.

Circe was the first to burst out into laughter. She covered her mouth, but it was done. The whole room erupted into laughter and the Boggart shrank back from the noise.

_Oh wow, now there's an image I won't be getting out of my head soon._

The children shuffled down the line in orderly fashion, each waiting for the Boggart to respond to them and each using the defensive spell Lupin had taught them. Parvati defeated her Mummy, Seamus took down his Banshee, Dean sent his severed hand scampering away and Ron was squaring up nicely to the gargantuan spider before him. Circe wandered over to Remus's side as the spider lolled hopelessly from side to side as it's legs disappeared thanks to Weasley's spell.

"You must have known Neville's Boggart would have been that!" she said accusationally, giving Lupin a playful punch on the arm.

"I had a suspicion." he said, glancing over to her. "I thought it both would have done us some good to see Severus in an… interesting situation." They both laughed.

Then Harry moved to the front of the line and Circe's face fell.

"Remus…" she said with alarm, pulling at his sleeve. "Remus, this is what I meant to tell you earlier. What will Harry's Boggart turn into?!"

He looked at her in confusion, but slowly realisation sparked behind his eyes. Remus's smile too fell away into a downcast frown and he looked from Harry to the morphing Boggart. Circe heard him gasp as he stepped forward. But it was too late, and floating ominously in the middle of the classroom was a Dementor. Circe felt her blood turn to ice as the glastly thing leered towards Remus and Harry. Even though it wasn't real, she still felt a cold chill gripping at her heart. Lupin stepped gallantly in between the demonic thing and Harry, and in a flash the Boggart changed into a silvery-white orb. Circe squinted at it and thought for a moment that it was a huge lightbulb or an orb, but she eventually came to the realisation that it was a moon. A full moon.

"Riddikulus! He shouted.

After a few moments, the Boggart was back in the wardrobe, pushed in finally by Neville again, giving Snape the what-for. The boy beamed from ear to ear, proud at his accomplishment, but Remus and Circe both wore faces of thunder. Lupin hastily concluded the lesson

"Well done everyone! Five points for everyone who tackled the Boggart, including Harry and Hermione."

"But I didn't do anything." Potter said, disappointment obvious in his voice.

"Well, always another day, eh? So, for homework please summarise the chapter on Boggarts in the textbook and hand in to me on Monday. That will be all."

The class shuffled out excitedly and Circe saw Harry linger for just a second too long as he watched Lupin carefully.

 _The poor boy must realise why Remus had to step in._ She thought to herself. Remus was evasively tidying through the papers on his desk again, refusing to look at Harry. Circe, however, could not take her eyes off him and she found herself wondering just how much like his mother he looked. The thought stabbed at her heart as she acknowledged it, watching Potter eventually leave, dragging his heels behind him.

"God, that was a close call." She said finally, walking to Remus's side.

"They saw…" he said in a low, pained voice. "They all saw the moon."

"They probably won't realise, Remus. I mean, it looked like a lightbulb to m-"

"They're kids, they aren't stupid Circe!" Lupin shouted, making her jump. As he turned to her, she saw his eyes fill with tears. She had nothing for him.

Remus fled from the room and slammed open the classroom door. Circe did not call after him, letting him have his moment of grief. As the door collided with the wall, the Boggart gave another grumble of discontent from the wardrobe and Circe's attention snapped back to it. She walked up to the tall, sturdy piece of furniture slowly, laying a cautious hand on the handle.

 _What would I see…?_ _What do I fear the most?_

She cycled through a list of possibilities: her mother's walking corpse, her Dad dead, the Basilisk back to life and stalking her once more, the unsettling voice that tormented her dreams. As another loud rattle came from the inside, she pulled her hand back sharply with a gasp.

 _No… I can't._ She thought as she backed away from the wardrobe hurriedly.

She was internally punishing her own cowardice as she walked out into the corridor. Something that a group of fourteen year olds could do, she couldn't. She was forced to come to a sudden halt as the class at the end of the corridor was let out and a stream of students came pouring into the space in front of her. She sighed exasperatedly and waited patiently for the students to finish coming out of the classroom when suddenly she froze up, her eyes almost popping out of her head. She watched, mouth agape as Hermione Granger came walking out of the classroom, her bookbag almost bursting at the seams and her arms carrying even more books.

_What the flying fuck…?!_

* * *

"Minerva, you are possibly the poorest liar I have ever met." Circe said as she stood in the bathroom mirror, playing with her hair.

"I really don't know what you're talking about, dear." she replied with a purse of her lips, avoiding Circe's reflection as her eyes burned into the back of her head. Mcgonagall busied herself with sorting through a few of her clothes as Circe watched her with a suspicious squint.

"The Granger girl _can't_ be in two places at once, and however she's doing it, you're covering for her!"

"Has there been a problem with her upkeep of work in your lessons?" Mcgonagall asked, placing her hands on her hips exasperatedly.

"No. She seems a bit frazzled and tired but-"

"Then I really can't disclose anything to you. I'm sorry Circe, but it's Ministry policy."

"Ministry? What's this got to do with the Ministry?" Circe asked, turning to face Minerva, her hair falling back down around her neck as she let go. Minerva waved her wand and as she passed her fingers over her lips, they morphed into a zip knitting together. Circe groaned loudly and rolled her eyes, having garnered nothing useful from her friend. She turned back to the mirror and readjusted her lipstick.

"That's all Dumbledore's getting…." she said, placing the makeup back on the sink. "Calling a bloody Staff meeting at seven o'clock at night, what's he playing at!? What do we think it's about _this_ year? Another arcane magical object needs protecting, or a new deadly, dangerous monster is stalking the school? Ooh! Or perhaps it's something to do with Black!"

"Oh, not a clue. Did you have plans?" Minerva asked, barely able to hide her smile under her green sleeve as she pretended to play dumb.

"Umm.. no. Not tonight." Circe said sheepishly. It was her birthday today. So far she'd managed to squirrel away the cards and presents as Ziggy dropped them off at her window. No singerlers this year, thank God. She was glad that no attention was being directed toward her. But it was a Friday night, and birthday or not, she'd have preferred the evening to herself, rather than being called to a last minute Staff meeting in the evening.

"Leave your hair down. It's pretty like that." Minerva said gently, at her side in the mirror. She straightened up the celtic garnet brooch on her coat collar that she had gifted Circe on her first Christmas at Hogwarts.

"And where are you going, looking like that, Minerva?" Circe said with a smile. Mcgonagall had rather spruced herself up for the evening, wearing her best emerald green dress and hat. She even had a dash of rouge on her cheeks. "Am I going to have to start matching your efforts to look nice for Staff meetings?"

"Oh I'm… going down to the Three Broomsticks in the evening to meet with Rosmurta about underage drinking during the Hogsmeade trips."

"Minerva…. You're lying again." Circe said, eyeing up the older lady.

"Oh, come on." Mcgonagall tugged her forcefully by the arm and they were off to the Staff Room.

As the two women walked arm in arm down the quiet corridors, Minerva distracted Circe with Quidditch talk. The upcoming match against Gryffindor was fast approaching and Circe was feeling quietly confident, having coached the Ravenclaw team for just over a year now. They exchanged some friendly banter as they discussed some predictions for the match: who would get first goal, who was the player that had most improved, who would get a bludger to the chest first, who would catch the snitch. As they approached the two knights that guarded the Staff Room, Mcgonagall paused and turned to Circe, fussing over her curls and the position her brooch sat in again.

"Minerva, what are you doing?" Circe asked as she shrunk away from the woman's bony fingers. "Pedagogica magica." Circe spoke to the armor suits, a twinge of frustration in her voice.

"I … wanted to make sure you looked nice."

"Nice for a Staff meeting…?"

"I just want you to know that this was all Remus's idea…" Minerva said, pushing her forward.

"SURPRISE!" a cohort of voices shouted at Circe.

It took a second for her eyes to adjust to the gloom of the Staff Room, but there, standing as one cohort, was the entire Hogwarts staff in their party best, Remus at the front holding a birthday cake out to her. She squealed and almost jumped back, the fizzing party candles placed into the cake triggering a bit of a fight-or-flight response in her. But as realisation hit her, she laughed as her jaw almost hit the floor.

"Oh you arseholes..." she chuckled. The staff laughed back.

* * *

Severus paced from one wall of his room to the other, his hands sweating and his mind ticking over his decision. Circe's birthday present sat propped up against his desk, huge and conspicuous and he chided himself again for buying it. He knew he'd purchased it in some foolhardy, vain attempt to try and outdo Lupin. He knew it was too much. He knew that it had been way too expensive, and yet he had bought it anyway. If he didn't go to the party then it would be a big fat waste. If he did, and Circe received her gift… well it still might not be enough to fix the rift between them.

"Do you really think you can buy your way back into her goodbooks, old man?" Severus muttered to himself, unable to stand still. He kicked at the post of his bed and sat down on his mattress with a heavy slump. He placed his head in his hands and pulled frustratedly at his hair. His mind wandered back to the day when he had seen Circe laughing and joking with their colleagues on the way to the Three Broomsticks. He imagined it was much the same with her party, happening above on the surface. Her beautiful smile, her eyes radiating laughter and happiness as she talked with others. Her eyes… _God, she could never be a spy. Every perfect little thought or emotion she has is projected out in those wonderful eyes._ Nausea gripped him again as he acknowledged the asinine thoughts he was having. Here he was, sitting in his dark rooms like some covetous Tempest-esque monster, leering at a woman beyond his means. Shadows covered his face as his hair hung limply over his features. Why did this feel so hard? So difficult? He wished, now more than ever, that he could summon the mental energy for socialisation. At least make a good go at being extraverted for her sake. He had never been sociable, true, but there were times last year when he would have killed to have a moment with CIrce.

"Will she even want me there?" he whispered to the air around him. "I doubt it. Conversation and charisma vacuum, that I am."

He stared down at the green carpet on the floor, beneath his shoes. Unable to think straight, unable to stop wringing his hands as they ceased to sweat. He looked up to his desk and saw the present leaning against the table again, the mere sight of it sending a stab of pain through his guts. His eyes wandered over to the picture of Eileen Prince he kept on the desk's surface. Old, black and white, a formal portrait with her hands folded neatly in her lap. It was a muggle photograph as his father would never have permitted a wizarding picture in his house. It was the only thing of hers that had arrived for him after her death at Spinner's End. Severus inhaled deeply, as he stared at his mother's likeness. She looked back at him with a fierce intensity, not unlike some of the looks Circe had given him of late, and a shiver passed through him as he spotted the similarity hidden there. Eileen Prince glared at her son with a look of hard reproachfulness. He could almost hear her voice in his head…. _Get up there right now, young man. Find your spine!_

He rose from the bed and grabbed the present.

Wrapped up as it was, it was difficult to carry. Severus had to hold it in both hands, stopping occasionally to reaffirm his sliding grip on it as his palms were still moist.

 _Oh God, what am I doing…._ He lamented to himself as he stood outside the Staff Room. He could hear the music from the party and the raised voices of his colleagues in high spirits already. The beat boomed dully through the walls and it seemed as if it was an echo of Severus's own skittish heart.

"Pedagogica magica." he spoke, a glimmer of uncertainty present in his voice.

He walked through into the Staff Room, the celebration in full swing. The music hit his ears at full blast.

" _When you were here before_

_Couldn't look you in the eye_

_You're just like an angel_

_Your skin makes me cry…"_

Someone had dimmed the lights and a series of flashing colourful party lights were bouncing off the walls. Severus looked around the room, at all of his colleagues in animated conversation, laughing, drinking, some dancing. Sybill Trelawney looked like she was doing her best Stevie Nicks impression as she spun around in a circle solitarily, keeping time to the music. Severus raised a judgemental brow at her as he moved inside the room, managing to avoid the attention of most. He looked around for Circe, but couldn't find her yet. So he opted to move towards her pile of presents and slip his contribution into their midst before anybody noticed it was from him. It was by far the biggest of the bunch…

" _You float like a feather_

_In a beautiful world_

_I wish I was special_

_You're so fuckin' special."_

"WEEEEE LIKE TO DRINK WITH CIRCEEEEEE…!" The chant made Severus jump and he looked towards the kitchenette.

"CAUSE CIRCE IS OUR MATE! AND WHEN WE DRINK WITH CIRCEEEEE SHE GETS IT DOWN IN EIGHT...SEVEN...SIX….FIVE..."

He followed the chant and there Circe was, trying to get a tray of firewhiskey shots inside her as quick as she could, egged on by a few of their colleagues. She put away her third shot and grimaced.

"No more… no more…" she laughed as Rolanda gave her a firm pat on the back.

"Ahh, ye wuss! I put awae five... Ye cannae drink like a true Scot!" Minerva said, pointing at her on wobbly feet, her accent noticeably stronger under the effects of the alcohol.

Remus, looking also a bit befuddled and ruddy from drink, passed Circe her mojito back to her, grinning widely at her display. Circe took a cautious sip of the cocktail, trying to cleanse her mouth out from the burning whiskey still lingering on her tongue. They talked to one another, their words lost in the sway of the music, but Severus could not look away from them, no matter how much it pained him to do so. The sight of Remus put him on edge again, especially as he stood at Circe's side with such ease and comfort, making her laugh, bringing out the shine of her eyes and the glow of her skin. Severus suddenly felt like an impostor.

_She doesn't even know I'm here…. What the hell am I doing? I don't belong here._

He suddenly felt voyeuristic again. Watching her in this moment of happiness. The monstrous Caliban lusting and longing for Miranda from his sea cave. He wanted to use his legs, to walk over to her and break out of his introspective self-hatred. But he just couldn't. He couldn't bear to watch her smile fall even a little bit, as surely it would when he surprised her and joined the conversation. He'd rather remove himself from the party before he spoilt an ounce of her happiness. The room suddenly felt small, the music too loud, he too tall and too imposing. Perhaps he just didn't belong around joy and kind people. It felt as if the room was rejecting him. Like Circe was rejecting him with what and who she was. He was a black blob of balsamic vinegar in a golden tray of olive oil. He knew it wasn't her fault that he felt like this, but it still caused his heart to ache.

"My child, my child!" Trelawney called from behind him. The woman came barging past Snape, charging at Circe with a mad look in her eye. "Let me read the leaves for you!" she said, accosting Circe and gesturing to her mojito.

"It's mint leaves, Sybill, not tea!" she said, giggling.

"Ahh semantics!" the Divination Professor said with a casual wave of her hand.

Circe rolled her eyes at Remus and he snorted, almost sending his own drink spewing out of his nose. She knocked back the rest of the cocktail and handed it over to Trelawney. As she waited for the woman to make her summations, peering deeply into her glass, Circe thought she saw the flurry of a black cloak in the darkness. _Was… was that….?_

She scanned the room, but her Byronic colleague was nowhere to be seen. Her heart sank and she let her brave face slip for the briefest of moments. Remus gave her a nudge and gave her a quizzical thumbs up, asking if she was okay. She nodded silently as Lupin moved to fetch her another drink. Perhaps she expected too much of Severus to think that he would be here. But she still would have forsworn everyone else in this room to have had him here. Lay down their arms for a night. Just for her birthday...

* * *

It was 3 am and the party was winding down. Remus and Circe both sat on the grass outside the Staff Room in the middle of the quad her and her friends used to sit in when she was young. They both lay on their backs, staring up into the clear night sky. The stars were spinning above her in velvety blackness as she tried to sober up in the coldness of the night air. Circe took a drag of the cigarette they were sharing and passed it back to Remus. She could see Rolanda and Pomona slow-dancing with one another through the frosted glass as the party lights illuminated their silhouettes. She'd have to fish Minerva out of the armchair she'd passed out in before she took them both off to bed…

"Your turn." Remus said, his hot breath clouding in front of him as he gave her a nudge. It was a little slurred but still merry.

"Uhh.. truth."

"Alright. How long have you had feelings for Severus?"

"I... Wh-...Remus!" she said in alarm, colouring deep red. He laughed heartily at her side and took a drag. Circe sighed and looked back up at the stars. It was pointless to lie to him and the whiskey in her belly lowered her inhibitions and smothered the sense of alarm at revealing her innermost desires. "For about a year and a half." She grumbled.

"Knew it."

"You did not. It was a fluke guess."

"I did. All you've done all evening is wait for him to turn up. I thought your eyes would roll out of your head with the amount of times you looked towards the Staff Room door. I could practically smell the pining coming off you."

"Mean. Mean and rude." Circe said jovially.

"How much… do you like him?" Remus asked, barely able to keep the smile from his voice.

"Uh, no! That's two questions!" she said, prevaricating him. "And I'm not nearly drunk enough to force myself to go down that route." she said, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. She had never been the crying, emotional type of drunk and she wasn't about to start now… She'd spent the whole evening building up an emotional wall around her and Severus and if Remus removed a stone of that now he'd be wiping away her mascara into the dawn. "It's your turn."

"Pfft, truth."

"What's the situation with you and Black?" Circe asked a little too enthusiastically.

"I told you he was my best friend-"

Oh come on, Remus. I can smell the pining coming off _you_! How evasive you are whenever anyone talks about him…I mean, you said that you lived with him for Christ sake."

"Fine, fine, fine…" Remus sucked in his breath and groaned in discomfort. "We were close. Very close in school. He... and James... went to great pains so he could be with me when I transformed. To look out for me. To have my back when no one else would. He was my family when I had no one... " Remus trailed off, unable to continue.

Circe sat up and looked at her friend, far away in a memory as he stared up into the sky. A single tear ran down the side of his face. "You loved him."

He looked to her with surprise in his eyes and sat up too. He stared at the cigarette in his hand, let out a long breath and nodded.

"My… my life fell apart quite soon after his arrest. After it was published what had happened to Peter…. What _he_ did to Peter." Circe took the cigarette from him and listened. This seemed like something Remus had been aching to say for a very long time indeed. "But what really destroyed me is what he did to James and Lily. For a long time I didn't believe it… I couldn't believe it. I couldn't understand why he'd betray them both to Voldemort. Him and James were like brothers. Thick as thieves. He adored Harry. Sirius was brash, hot headed, impetuous, but he would never do something like that…"

"And now? What do you believe now?"

"I don't know. I have to believe what I'm told, don't I? What the Ministry court said. What the Prophet published. Isn't it a type of madness to refute what is black and white in front of you? If he's hell bent on coming back here, to Hogwarts, like we've been hearing…"

"Do you think he's here for you?" Circe asked, her eyes growing wide.

"Circe…" Lupin grumbled.

"Sorry… sorry." She raised her hands defensively.

 _How awful it must be for him._ Circe thought. _The scars from that betrayal must run very deep indeed_. Circe knew Severus had done some terrible things, but killed people? Betrayed a former friend and ally? That must be a pain that outshines even the most vicious of his transformations. She finally understood what Myron had said to her that night outside the Dirty Duck about the mate that's been pulled away from his girlfriend for the first time. The fact that Remus missed Sirius was in every fall of his foot, every syllable he uttered, every faraway glance out to the mountains. How she wished she could shoulder some of his pain for him. She knew enough of Remus's nature to know that he would blame himself for what happened all those years ago, taking responsibility for the tragedy when there was none to lay at his door. People had told him all his life that he was evil, after all. Wrong. Dangerous. She could only imagine the voluminous venom Remus must have received when the wizarding community found out he'd lived with Black at the time of the Potter's deaths. She knew she'd broken the spell that had lulled Remus into talking openly on Sirius and her shoulders deflated. "Your turn. Truth or Dare?"

"I think we stopped doing dares about forty minutes ago."

Circe laughed. "So why not just ask what we want to ask?"

Remus went quiet. Staring into Circe's face for a moment. "Do you think werewolves are… can ever be worthy of someone's love?"

"Oh, Remus…" Circe breathed, her eyes clouding with sympathetic tears. "You don't really believe that, do you?" She lay a hand on his face and turned him gently to her.

"Everybody I have ever trusted… everyone I have ever loved… They're now either dead or lost to me, Circe. That can't just be coincidence." Remus uttered, his eyes growing glassy.

Circe was lost for words. She wanted to scream at him, shout into his face until he understood that he was precious, special, worthy.

She leaned in and lay a chaste kiss on his cheek.

Lupin was quiet for a while, smiling sadly at Circe. "And how was that?" he asked lightly, his mood seeming to bounce back somewhat. Back to the level-headed, stoic Remus she knew.

"You know in….Back to the Future…" she said slowly.

"'It's like I'm kissing my brother'." he quoted, huffing at her with a small grin. "Well, you and I shall be the 'pine' siblings. Stinking of woody, fresh unrequited love until our final days." He gave her a nudge on the shoulder which almost sent her topping back over into the grass.

"You're always so chipper." Circe said sarcastically as she lit another cigarette.

"Come on, there must be some burning, shameful question that you have that will lay you bare too." Remus sighed.

Circe knew what she wanted to ask. It had sat on her lips ever since the day in Lupin's classroom with the Boggart. Itching to be spoken aloud. But thinking of it even now made the jealous bile rise up in her throat and she swallowed hard. She breathed in deep, sucking the cold air into her lungs in the hopes that she would freeze into an unharmable ice queen. It did little to calm her nerves before she took the plunge…

"Tell me what Lily Evans was like."

Remus smiled at her, as if he'd known that that was what she'd been aching to ask. "She was… uncommonly kind. Wonderfully clever. Fiercely loyal. Like Sirius, she was there for me at a time when no one else was. And… she was like you."

Circe blanched, her head snapping towards Lupin. "What? Why?"

"She had a way of seeing the beauty in others even, and perhaps most especially, when that person couldn't see it in themselves." He finished with a warm wink of his eye.

Had it been what she'd wanted to hear or not? She couldn't decide. And had Lupin been referring to Severus or himself? That she couldn't figure out either. All she knew is that Lily Evans was still this angelic, exceptional, infallible person and she was just she. Unspecial and unremarkable, no matter what Remus did to try and pacify her.

"I think I would have felt better if you'd told me she was a monster." Circe grumbled.

"I can't be anything less than completely honest to her memory, Circe."

"I know. And that's why I trust you, Remus. Even when I need to hear things I don't especially want to hear." she said, rising to her feet. Lupin stood too and he lay a hand on her shoulder.

"Happy Birthday, Circe."

Circe flinched at the birthday wishes, but nevertheless she reached out and hugged Lupin and he squeezed her tight. "Thank you."

They both walked back inside the Staff Room where a few lingerers still kept the party going. Remus excused himself and set off to his bed. Circe was left sat by herself, near her present pile. She felt morose, rolling around Lupin's summation of Lily in her head. _Of course she was kind, of course she was compassionate, of course she was the loveliest person to ever walk the earth…_ Circe thought bitterly as green eyed envy wriggled away in her stomach.

 _How can I ever compete with her_ … she thought again.

She lay a hand on the biggest present of the bunch and began half-heartedly opening it. In her hazy, half-drunk state she didn't register what it was until it was completely free of wrapping paper and she froze. A guitar case.

"Wha-? Who…?" she muttered, laying it on the floor and opening the lid cautiously. She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. It was a Martin LX1 acoustic guitar, in a beautiful dark cherry wood. The same model as the guitar Kurt Cobain played live. Fourteen perfect frets, beautifully rounded, lightweight and small for travelling ease. She stroked it reverently, in complete shock.

 _These are… five hundred pounds. At least! Who gave me this?_ She thought.

A neat little blue envelope rested on top of the strings in answer to her question. She picked it up and tore it open, her hands shaking in anticipation.

" _Dear Circe,_

_I thought long and hard about what you might want for your Birthday. And I couldn't think of anything else that would belong in your hands more._

_Please accept this as a gift of apology, sincerity and the promise of auspiciousness._

_I know you despise it when people say this but... Happy Birthday._

_From,_

_Aunt Bessie."_

"Oh, from a relative is it?" Sybill Trelawney said at Circe's shoulder. She jumped in alarm at the closeness of the woman's voice to her ear.

"What?"

"From your Aunt, is it not?" she pointed towards the card. "How odd, I thought your leaves foretold of a meaningful gift from a… romantic love, not a familial love."

"Umm… yeah. My Aunt." She closed the case lid hurriedly and rebuckled the clasps. "Excuse me Sybill." she mumbled, picking up the case by the handle and running away from the party.

* * *

Dawn was creeping through the windows of Remus's classroom as Circe sat on one of the spare desks. The guitar played beautifully and she'd worn away her fingers into red, stinging pads as she'd played aimlessly. Hours drifting by, soundtracked only by the gentle pluck of the strings. Her hands had a way of playing the songs she felt, without her knowing. Her mind was somewhere else as she stared at the rapidly encroaching beam of sunlight on the classroom floor. Yet her fingers played and her throat hummed.

" _I don't care if it hurts_

_I wanna have control_

_I want a perfect body_

_I want a perfect soul_

_I want you to notice_

_When I'm not around_

_So fucking special_

_I wish I was special."_

Circe came to a halt and she placed the guitar on the floor. She sniffed and wiped her face, unsure of when she'd started crying. She saw her reflection in the laqueur of the instrument: dark, shadowed and hollow-looking, and by God she felt it. She theorised that she'd have to give it back to Severus. She couldn't accept such an expensive gift. But why had he done it? As some show of his promise to do better, as he'd said in his card? Or was there another reason? Something hidden in the subtext that seemed too obvious to be true? Before she had been content and comfortable in her anger with Severus, after the Dementor's attack and after their tête-à-tête in the Potions storage room. Now she wasn't sure what she felt, other than the queasy feeling of fear.

She knew why she'd come to Lupin's classroom, instead of going to her own, or back to her and Minerva's rooms. Perhaps she'd even waited for daylight to give her a dram of artificial courage. She'd been trying to summon up her bravery all night. She needed to see…

The Boggart rattled in the wardrobe in front of her.

Circe rose to her feet slowly and pulled her wand from her pocket. She drew in a shaky breath and routed her feet firmly to the ground.

She pointed it at the wardrobe, trying desperately to stop her hand from shaking.

"Alohomora." she said nervously, and the door swung open achingly slowly.

The hinges creaked in the cavernous silence of the room. The only sound to accompany Circe's short, nervous breaths.

A delicate hand curled around the door.

Soon it was followed by a pale, beautiful face framed by a shock of long auburn red hair.

The woman stood before Circe; tall, beautiful and elegant. Looking at her with eyes of staunch, cold fastidiousness. She didn't need to say anything to know that she viewed Circe as her inferior; summing her up in a single glance and finding her startlingly lacking, the corner of her mouth twinging callously. She had Harry's eyes...

Circe gazed back at her miserably and sighed, whispering to the Boggart...

"Hello Lily."


	23. "And I scream from the top of my lungs. "What's going on?""

Chapter 23 - "And I scream from the top of my lungs. "What's going on?""

"Days like these are far too rare to cheapen with heavy handed words, Ravenclaws." Circe said somberly as she paced, hands on hips, before the Quidditch team in the changing rooms.

"Then don't…" muttered Roger Davies. The new Captain after Inglebee's departure from the school.

"Shush, Roger. I'm having my inspirational sports speech moment." she replied impatiently, waving him down. "But I do know that great moments are born from great opportunities. But forget it all. The school. The crowd. The cheers. Just think about what got you here: your blood and sweat and toil and hard work. And many years from now, when you're old, in your beds would you be willing to trade all the days from this day to that, for the chance to fly in the skies in pure, unadulterated victory?" she paused, casting an eye over the faces of the team. They looked back at her as if she were talking in another language.

"Um… yes?" Cho Chang ventured bravely.

"Yes! That's what I want to hear!" she grinned back at them like a maniac. A mutter of uncertainty rippled through the team and Circe sighed, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. "Look guys. You've all worked fantastically hard. We've had some successes and some failures but that doesn't matter. All that matters is that you try your best and enjoy the game. Whatever happens, I'm proud of all of you."

"Really?" said Randolph Burrows, his little face looking up at her brightly.

"No. Get out there and crush the Gryffindors into the mud or I'll stamp on all your toys."

Circe climbed the last of the steps up to the teacher's spectator podium and emerged into the stands, looking for a seat. The heavens had opened and everybody had their umbrella up, meaning she couldn't see who was sat where. She muscled her way down to the very front, eager to keep a watchful eye on her team, and raised the blue hood of her quidditch jacket over her head. She was thankful that she'd managed to finally find a uniform that fit her properly and even though it wasn't her original, she still wore it with pride. She spotted Minerva from across the pitch, on the observation tower opposite her. She was difficult to see through the mist of the rain, but she spied the bright splodge of crimson and gold on her Gryffindor scarf, set against her signature vivid emerald green. Circe gave her a wave and she thought she saw the old witch wave back. Yet the rain stung at her eyes and she quietly bemoaned how poor today's visibility was. Perhaps that would go in her favour; Potter was a glasses wearer like her, and she knew all too well how difficult it was to see in a downpour with spectacles. Cho was a promising seeker and this could be the difference between loss and victory for her.

"Professor Smith!"

She turned around to answer whoever had called her and saw sitting on the front bench Remus, Dumbledore and… Severus. They all held huge umbrellas over their heads and whilst Albus and Remus smiled eagerly through the wetness, Severus seemed to shrink in on himself like a cat in a bathtub. Remus whispered to Dumbledore and the two of them shuffled along the bench, creating a spot in which for Circe to sit. Right in between Remus and Severus.

Circe adjusted herself awkwardly as she placed herself in between the two men. She looked to Severus, smothered in a heavy black cloak and clinging on to his umbrella, then to Remus, clad in a plain green anorak holding his own brolly aloft. She moved a little closer to Remus, under his umbrella, all the while feeling the burn of Severus's eyes on her. Circe inclined her head towards Snape as the hubbub of the crowd seemed to dwindle and die, all replaced by his nearness and his heavy presence. Snape kept his eyes on his lap, partly from nervousness, partly as he didn't quite know what to say to her, but Circe was caught in the curves of his face and the intensity of his expression. He looked up to her and she gasped ever so quietly. Lupin caught his friend and Snape in their sexually-charged staring competition and he rolled his eyes. Remus was feeling a little wicked. He smiled coyly to himself and took his wand from his pocket.

"Ventus." he whispered, pointing at Dumbledore's umbrella. In a flash, a strong gust of air yanked the umbrella from the Headmaster's hands and it went soaring up into the sky.

"Oh goodness!" the Headmaster said, watching it soar off into the rain clouds above.

"My my, what a blustery day it is Dumbledore." said Remus, feigning ignorance. "Here, sit close to me and we'll share my umbrella." He moved the brolly away from Circe and fat raindrops began dripping onto her head. Circe shot a confused eye to Remus and he grinned.

"Hey-"

"Profesor Smith, I'm sure Professor Snape wouldn't mind sharing his umbrella with you." Remus lilted.

Snape's head shot up at the mention of his name and he blushed deeply beneath his black cloak.

"Remus, what are you- ow!" Lupin had given her a hard poke in the ribs and with a push of his boot, he shoved Circe's feet in Severus's direction. Circe gritted her jaw at him, but all Remus could do was smile coyly at her. He turned from Circe and she was left sitting in the rain, also blushing fiercely. She slowly inclined her head back towards Severus and he straightened his back and coughed awkwardly. He moved his umbrella slightly nearer to her. Circe sighed and shuffled closer to him, until their thighs touched and she could smell the warming sandalwood and burning herbs that clung to his robes.

"I… um. I got your present, Severus." she said, her voice sounding small and unsure in her own ears.

"Was it… to your tastes?" he replied stiffly.

"It was beautiful. Thank you." Circe said, catching his eye. For the first time since the beginning of the year, he saw a flash of the old her in that look. Kind and gentle. He felt himself soften under her thankful gaze and he allowed a small smile to pull at the corner of his mouth. _Am I forgiven? Dare I hope?_ "But I can't possibly keep it." she said, hurriedly. Dropping her eyes to her lap.

"No, you must. I insist."

"Severus-"

"You deserve that and so much more." Severus blushed even fiercer than before. His eyes bulged. It had slipped out of him before he had mentally checked himself. Circe was trying desperately to still her furiously beating heart. Had this been a more private setting, she would have leaned into him and kissed him. But she felt the watch of eyes on her. From the students and the staff seated around her… but his closeness and warmth were so potent to her, so inviting.

The sound of the match-start whistle made her jump and dragged her back to reality, the first crack of lightning accompanying Hooch's shrill blow. She leaned forward, her attention immediately grabbed by the match as she watched her team zoom off into the rain. Severus had to adjust the umbrella forwards so she didn't get soaked.

As the game progressed, Circe's voice grew increasingly more hoarse. She shouted at the Ravenclaw team with words of praise and encouragement. Passing on tips and tricks to anyone who flew close enough to her on their broom.

"Cho..! CHO! Eyes on the sky. Tail Potter. I think Granger charmed his glasses to repel water!"

The Ravenclaw girl nodded to her and zoomed off in hot pursuit of Harry. They needed to catch the snitch. Although they'd been playing well, they were still fifty points behind the Gryffindors. Although she couldn't see it, she could feel Minerva's smug grin from across the pitch. She scowled and looked bitterly up at the grey sky. There had been a couple of mid-air collisions already, as players had flown into each other, unable to see clearly. The commentary too was lost to the brutal winds and it was hard for Circe to follow what was going on. However, the crowd were making entertainment for themselves, standing in the cold, miserable rain as they were…

Someone somewhere from within the Gryffindor stands had started to sing. The lone voice then joined by more and more, and soon it was loud enough to carry over the storm. First it had been 'Sweet Caroline' and Circe cast a wonderful bright smile to Lupin as she realised it had to have been one of her MMAP members who'd heard her story. Then after that, they had gone on to other tunes that they'd listened to together in the club. The Ravenclaws led the charge with a football-chant like version of 'What's Up' and Circe had joined in with the howling chorus of :

" _And I say, "Hey-ey-ey-ey"_

_Hey-ey-ey_

_I said, "Hey, what's going on?"_

Now it seemed that they had adopted the tune as their own, as the chorus refrain was hollered out every time the Ravenclaw's scored a goal. They amended the last line to " _I said, "Wood, what's going on?"_ as a funny quip at the Gryffindor Keeper. Circe was ecstatic to think that she may have started a small Hogwarts tradition of each Quidditch team having their own signature song. Perhaps when the other houses got together they'd put their collective brain cells together to come up with their own team tunes. From over the muffled dampness of the rain, she heard the chant come again from the Ravenclaws...

" _And I say, "Hey-ey-ey-ey"_

_Hey-ey-ey_

_I said, "Wood, what's going on?"_

… and she knew someone must have scored a goal. _Wish I could have bloody seen it. God Damn this miserable weather._ Her eyes traveled up to the stone-coloured clouds and she saw Harry whizzing around on his broom. She gasped and pushed the tip of Severus's umbrella back. A shower of water landed onto his lap and he exclaimed in surprise.

"Look!" Circe pointed to Potter, dipping and diving in the sky followed closely by a whippet quick flash of blue. "Get him, Cho!" she hollered.

They both disappeared up into the clouds and Circe had to turn away as her glasses were soon coated in raindrops. She grabbed on to Severus's arm tightly as a surge of excitement took over. Severus tensed up as he felt her cold fingers around his bicep.

 _God I missed you…_ he thought.

But Circe's grip grew frighteningly tight around him and he looked with furrowed brows to her face. Where there had once been a look of pure excitement and joy, there was now a horrified, deeply troubled expression.

"Circe… what is it?" his breath clouded out in front of him as if he had puffed on a cigarette. It was chilly.

"Severus, it's snowing again." she muttered monotonously. It was. It was deathly cold.

A sable black robe flitted in between the clouds high above her. It disappeared again. But the falling snow and the icy air confirmed Circe's fears. _Dementors…_

Severus dropped his umbrella and let the snow fall around them. He too cast his eyes up into the pendulously dark sky. He flinched as he spotted another black smear of a robe in the sky.

The next thing they knew, Harry was falling from the sky. Motionless and broomless he plummeted to the earth. Severus and Circe both gasped in unison as they watched the rapidly descending boy being pursued by a squadron of some eighty, ninety, one hundred swarming Dementors. Severus fumbled in his pocket for his wand, but he cursed loudly as he realised it was in the pocket nearest to the hand that held the umbrella. Circe was luckily quicker to act, and from her jodhpurs she pulled her wand and summoned the happiest memory she could.

"Expecto Patronum!"

A dazzling white light emerged from her wand and she heard Dumbledore beside her cast the spell to stay Harry's falling. Her spell shifted and formed from a nondescript white ball into her familiar arctic wolf. She thought of that baseball game in New York, she thought of her and Lupin dancing with the MMAP, she thought of sitting in the Scottish National Gallery with Severus. Trying to push out all retrospect or hindsight that might poison the memory for her, concentrating on how it made her feel in the moment. The joy and happiness it had brought her _then_. That was all that mattered. The wolf bounded towards the Dementors, seemingly growing larger with each step. It chased away the demonically robed monsters with a snap of its jaws, and they scattered off one by one, disappearing back into the storm clouds.

She collapsed back onto the bench once she was satisfied the vile creatures had all been successfully chased off. Both Lupin and Snape were at her side instantaneously. Remus pressed a bar of chocolate into her hand as her head swam, before disappearing from her side to tend to Harry. Everything felt like it was underwater, the sound of panic and raised voices muffled and muted. The bar was now open and unwrapped in her palm and a set of slender fingers raised it to her mouth and she munched down compliantly. Circe felt the softly falling snow turn back into bitingly hard rain, hitting her cheeks in splashes of cold. The world began to slowly return to normal; Sound came back to her ears and she became aware of Severus sitting at her side, his hand over hers.

"Eurgh, fruit and nut." Circe said jovially, waving the chocolate bar. She smiled weakly at Severus and laughed.

She tried to stand up, but wobbled on her feet precariously. Severus was quick to hold her up, his hand sturdy on her elbow.

"Have another bite." he encouraged. She did so, sticking her tongue out in mock disgust as she chewed on the raisins in the chocolate.

"Is Harry-"

"He's alright. I think he was out cold by the time he touched down, but he looked unharmed. Dumbledore's just had him stretchered away."

"Who caught the snitch?"

Severus thought he may have misheard her. "I-What?"

"Who caught the snitch…!?" she repeated forcefully.

* * *

She still felt a little queasy after the walk back up to the castle, but the fresh air had done her good. Snape was walking by her side, his arms folded over his chest as he cowered under his umbrella. It was still raining, but Circe's exhaustion after casting the patronus charm had given way to a rather euphoric feeling. She walked unbothered in the downpour, a spring in her step, running up to members of the Ravenclaw quidditch team to give them a hearty hug or a ruffle of the hair, before sauntering back to Severus's side.

"Cho Chang, woman of the hour!" she shouted, sprinting over to the Ravenclaw seeker and giving her an exuberant pat on the back. The young girl laughed.

"Thank you Professor." She smiled at her teacher. Chang was pulled along in the throng of students all walking back to the castle and Circe turned back to Severus, her whole being somehow glowing. Her eyes were on fire with triumph.

"You don't think it's somewhat of a hollow victory? Considering that Potter fell out of the sky before he could catch the sn-"

"Severus, shush!" she interrupted, laying a single finger over his mouth. "Have you found out who Barbara Streissand is yet?"

"No…" he mumbled.

"Well, _Don't rain on my paraaaaaade!"_ she sang, twirling around a few times.

Severus sighed and let her have her moment of victory. But something sat uneasily in his mind. He had watched her patronus emerge from her wand, huge and confident, and it was odd… he could have sworn he felt his own wand respond to the charm. His own chest swell with happiness as the arctic wolf grew in size. He had been too slow to react again, but at least this time Circe knew it wasn't for want of trying. Circe watched him, deep in introspection. She reconciled that part of her bright mood was the joy of having her closest friend back. To be on good terms with Severus again, in so far that anyone could be on 'good' terms with him.

"Why do you think the Dementors were that…" she trailed off, searching for the right word. Numerous? Bloodthirsty?

"Agitated?" Snape offered.

"It certainly felt like that, didn't it."

They were both quiet for a while, both in silent contemplation as they relived the Dementor attack that had just happened moments before.

As they entered the castle, both could instantly tell there was something amiss. The students were buzzing, but not from the recent quidditch match. There was a nasty feel in the air. Like something unsettling had happened. Circe grabbed at Percy Weasley as he raced past her, almost making the red haired boy skid across the stones.

"Percy! What's happened?" She asked brusquely.

"I… I need to find Dumbledore." He muttered.

"Answer her, Weasley!" Severus shouted.

"I don't know! The Fat Lady… she's gone!"

"Gone? What do you mean gone?" Snape demanded, his short temper beginning to show.

"The portrait's empty, Professor. Three huge great rakes through it!"

Circe let go of Percy's sleeve and the boy scampered off to his duty. She cast a look at Severus and he to her, and they both broke into a run towards Gryffindor tower.

They pushed through the amassed throng of Gryffindors, all huddled in front of the empty portrait, at a loss for what to do next. Luckily Minerva was already there to keep a tenuous grasp on order and calmness.

"Minerva! What's happened?" Circe breathed through the crush of bodies. She gasped as she saw that Percy had been right in his summation. Three deep, vicious claw marks ran from right to left down the whole portrait's surface.

"I don't know…" Minerva replied, the tiniest shake of emotion in her voice.

Dumbledore arrived not long after, quizzing the other portraits that hung on the landing. All of them were maddeningly unhelpful: screaming, cowering behind their animals or props, hysterically crying into the arms of their portrait mates. Until they came to Sir Cadogan, the fifth century knight, perched on top of his fat little pony.

"Thine Rotund Lady is yonder!" He pointed up to a painting a few floors above them. As one the student and staff body moved to his direction and went charging up the stairs in a huddled squash.

"My Lady," Dumbledore called out gently to the oil painting. Circe heard a dramatic whimper and knew it was her. "My Lady, tell me what happened."

"He's here, Headmaster!" She cried, sending all the other frames on the walls violently shaking. "That vicious beast! He's in the castle! Wanted to come into the Gryffindor common room, but I stopped him, I did! Had no clue what the password was."

"Who's here?" The Headmaster asked again, but Circe could have shouted the answer.

"Sirius Black!"

* * *

The school, of course, had been searched from top to bottom by the staff. Circe even poked her head down some of the passages she'd explored with Severus last year, but the scar near her left eye and the horrible memory of being almost crushed to death prevented her from searching them thoroughly. Their search had not unearthed the elusive Sirius Black. That evening all of the Gryffindors were sleeping in the Great Hall, Potter included, already back from the Hospital wing after his fall. Lupin was nowhere to be seen, off on his own somewhere scouring the castle. _If I was him, I don't know if I'd want to find Black or not…_ she mused. Everyone was acting strangely, including Severus. A few times she'd rounded a corner or rejoined him after a brief explore of a pipe to find him experimentally toying with his wand. Whispering and muttering a charm to himself as silvery-white whisps spewed from the end. It looked like a patronus, but not quite formed, like Snape was half-heartedly trying to summon it. Or as if he was afraid to summon it…

She'd gone to bed that night confused and unsettled. As if the very walls of the school were watching her. Minerva's presence was notably absent in the room beside her and she found herself deeply missing the soft footfalls and little comfort sounds of hearing her friend's nighttime routine. Her bed was too big, the room around her too dark and full of hiding spaces. She'd checked and re-checked her conservatory and her bathroom, but sleep that night did not come easy to her.

" _Circe…"_ the unsettling voice whispered to her. And she knew she'd fallen asleep. Her head snapped up and she was seated at a library desk again. But she was not in the Hogwarts library… or even the Edinburgh bookshop she normally found herself in. Instead she was in a huge, marble-clad ballroom. It was dark. Not a light in the place. Illuminated only by the eerie moonlight streaming through the windows at one end of the ballroom's walls. She looked up to the sky and the ceiling's fresco was flaked and crumbling. She saw the angels, gods and monsters above her and they seemed to move and swirl about on their silky clouds as if they danced through thick yellowing soup.

" _Circe…"_ the voice whispered again. This time, her eyes travelled to the wall opposite the floor to ceiling windows. There stood a huge mirror, cracked and blackened with age but reflecting back the whole of the ballroom to her. Her feet drew her to the mirror and she approached it slowly, seeing only herself in its surface. But then... emerging from the darkness behind her stood a figure wrapped in a thick black cloak and hood. Circe felt her blood run cold and she tried to swallow the urge to scream.

"Who-Who are you?!" she asked.

The figure did not respond, but merely stretched a dainty, pale hand out to her. She turned around, but no one was there. When Circe turned back to the mirror, the robed figure had been joined by a series of ghostly figures at his back. First there was one or two; an old man, an old woman, a large homely looking middle aged lady…none of them she recognised. But then more emerged from nowhere, seeping into the dark ballroom's reflection: they were seemingly ordinary looking folk, but most of them appeared as if they were dirty or homeless. There were hundreds of them now. All of their frightened faces were unknown to her. But then she spied a girl in a Hogwarts uniform with pigtails and thick, circular glasses. She half-recognised her. Circe turned around again, but the room still was empty. As she faced the mirror once more, the robed figure stood closer, almost at her shoulder.

" _Circe…"_ She could almost feel the breath on her neck. Her terrified little heart thumped in her ears. But then, a flash of auburn red hair in the crowd took her attention.

" _Circe… come to me. Find me."_ the voice hissed menacingly. The terrified faces looked at her mournfully. Her breath was ragged. The others moved closer, encircling the robed figure. Pressing in on her.

" _Circe!"_ the voice wheezed by her ear, like nails down a chalkboard. It grew more alarming and desperate. Circe saw the red hair moving through the crowd again and she flinched.

" _Circe!"_ the hooded figure roared. Then from the crowd of horrified faces stepped the red-haired woman. Lily Potter.

"Circe, wake up!" she shouted at her.

Circe sat bolt-upright in her bed, drenched head to toe with sweat. She ran a hand through her hair and pulled hard, the pain in her head conforming she was awake. She threw off the bedclothes and sat with her head in her hands on the edge of the mattress. Her heart still thumped and ice cold fear still sat in her veins. She felt way too restless to lay back down to sleep. The image of the hooded figure stood just behind her closed eyelids, arm outstretched to her.

 _Who were those people?_ She thought. _Lily… Lily Potter again._ But her thoughts of Harry's mother had softened somewhat. Instead of envy or a feeling of inferiority to her, she now felt a sense of gratitude. As if the woman had saved her from a very dark fate by forcing her awake and out of the clutches of the robed figure.

As she rose and put on some warm clothes her rational mind began to kick in. _Perhaps the Dementor attack earlier today got to you. Perhaps you're still thinking about that boggart… It was just a bad dream, Circe._

Still, she didn't have the stomach for any more sleep. In fact, her stomach growled and she realised she'd skipped dinner to scour the castle that evening. She resolved to have a walk. Circe picked up her coat from over her vanity chest's chair and strode out into the Hogwarts corridors. It was beautifully quiet this late at night. The stone walls were cooling on her clammy skin. She started to feel half-normal again as she stumbled into the kitchens, feeling famished in the quiet hours of the morning. Almost as if the House Elves had anticipated her, two cold chicken legs lay on a plate on the countertop closest to the door. She picked up the plate and whispered "thank you" uncertainly to the empty air.

Circe munched on a leg as she loitered outside the Great Hall. The huge oak doors were firmly closed and she thought of the poor Gryffindors snoozing away inside, Minerva included. On the stone floor. In their sleeping bags. Still, an uncomfortable night's sleep was better than no sleep…

 _Oh, but Minerva's poor back…_ she looked down to the floor and stomped down on the hard stones. But on the flagstones beneath her she spotted something unusual. A series of small, muddy animal prints.

"What the…" she mumbled, her mouth half full of chicken. She followed the prints outside, into the courtyard that was looked over by the tall clock tower. Circe came to a stop just outside of the huge portcullis, having last passed under it on her first night back at Hogwarts, when she had been attacked by the Dementors. She had lost the animal prints long ago, but still kept a weather eye out as she peered through the iron bars. It was a bright night. Unusually bright. Circe looked up into the sky and there, hanging like an opalescent disc in the sky, was the full moon.

_Oh, that's where Remus went this afternoon…_

Almost on cue, out over the highland hills, Circe heard the ominous howl of a wolf.

She turned to leave, and hurry back inside when the whine of a dog on the other side of the portcullis made her jump. Circe gasped and almost dropped her plate. The dog whined again and eyed up her food hungrily. Circe looked at the animal long and hard, finally realising that it was the same dog that she'd almost hit with her car.

"You!" She said accusationally. The dog panted and lolled his huge pink tongue out of his mouth. In the light of the full moon she could see him clearer. To her eye he looked like an Irish wolfhound: massive, scraggy and powerful. Yet he still looked painfully skinny to her eye. _Definitely a stray._ Circe looked down at her spare chicken leg and back to the dog. Placing the plate on the floor, she picked up the meat in her hand and held it out through the bars for him.

"Come on, honey." She cooed. She waved the chicken leg at the dog . "Come on, honey." She repeated as he padded closer.

"Come on, h-" she stopped dead as the dog snatched the chicken from her and bounded off into the night.

Circe laughed to herself, grateful for the happy distraction the stray dog had provided. But Remus howled into the night again, somewhere out there in the dark, and a shiver went up her spine. She hurried back inside, hoping that the House Elves had another leg hidden somewhere…


	24. "Now your animal's gone."

Chapter 24- "Now your animal's gone."

The MMAP were in session in Remus's classroom, squabbling over what CD to put on next, whilst Circe strummed her guitar as she tried to follow whatever tune was on. She was trying to teach Cedric a few chords and keep him away from the CD player. Apparently he'd imposed quite the reign of terror until Circe had turned up. Apparently the class were sick to death of Oasis. Well, the young men were. The young ladies were happy to have on whatever Cedric wanted. The Diggory boy was obsessed with them. Circe had yet to listen to their album in any great detail, but was keen to let the other boys garner some kudos with their own albums they'd turned up to the meeting with. Every time they came back from Hogsmeade, they had their pockets full of sweets from Zonkos, their clothes smelling of beer from the Three Broomsticks and their arms full of parcels of music from the Post Office. Apparently the first-class owls had been rather bogged down as the MMAP were trying to order CD's as fast as possible to get first dibs on the club's CD player. Luckily the tension in the group had lifted somewhat when Lee Jordan had turned up with his own player and a set of headphones.

With a few Gryffindors sitting in their own corner, taking turns on Jordan's headphones, most of the other MMAP members were arguing over which album to put on next. Cedric was distracted with Circe's demonstration, and Ron and Seamus were having a rather heated discussion over their selection. Controlling a room full of teenagers was rather like trying to herd cats… _and keep them from clawing each other's eyes out._ Circe thought with a roll of her eyes.

"Will you teach me Live Forever?" Cedric asked her. Circe looked into the boy's watchful eyes. He didn't need her help to be any 'cooler'. She'd have girls fainting in the quads if Diggory learnt how to play guitar casually.

"I'll have a listen to it…" she said noncommittally. "Here, have a strum." She handed Cedric the guitar and wandered over to the arguing Gryffindors.

She spotted Harry looking rather sorry for himself, leaning against the wall of the classroom. The poor boy hadn't been to Hogsmeade at all. Something to do with his permission slip, Mcgonagall had told her. And it was doubly dangerous for the boy to be outside of the Hogwarts grounds now they knew Black was certainly close. Thus, Harry didn't have any vested interest in what music to have on, having no CD's himself. She motioned him over with the curl of her finger and he stood by Ron's side as the red haired boy continued to argue with Seamus.

"Boys… boys. Why don't we let Harry choose?" Circe said diplomatically. Harry turned a little shy and scratched at his head.

"Yeah, alright. Go on mate." Ron said, stepping back to allow Harry a look at the collection on the table.

"Umm.. I dunno. This one." He said, laying a hand on a seemingly random case.

"Why that one?" Circe asked, craning her head to see what he'd chosen. _Suede. Interesting…_

"It… reminded me of this film that my Aunt and Uncle used to watch when Dudley was away for the night. I'd have to hide in the cupboard and pretend I wasn't there for their "date night"."

Circe tried to stop a grin from spreading all over her face. "Was the film called 'Ghost', by any chance?"

"Yeah."

"Good thing this isn't a pottery class then…" she smirked. The only one who seemed to understand the reference was Hermione. She giggled demurely.

 _When had she turned up…?_ Circe thought.

"What?" Ron asked her flatly.

"I'll tell you later."

Circe laughed as Granger coloured bright red, popping open the CD and placing it in the player.

The Gryffindors waited silently for the music to start. As the twanging guitars and psychedelic synths filled the classroom, they looked at one another with pleased little nods.

" _Like his dad you know that he's had_

_Animal nitrate in mind..."_

Circe walked away from the player, satisfied she'd avoided another argument with Potter's aptly chosen banger. She sat at Remus's empty desk and cast an eye over his untidy workstation. She bemoaned how he could work in such a space. How did he find anything he wanted? Since Black was spotted in the castle a few months ago he hadn't been the same. He'd been quiet, distracted, uncharacteristically distant. It also seemed his transformations were taking a larger toll on him physically. He'd said to her one morning in the Staff Room, when he'd emerged with fresh blue bruises and angry-looking cuts on his neck, that "when I'm agitated, the wolf is agitated too.". Circe didn't have to ask what Lupin was worried about. With Black so close, his whole persona seemed subdued and out of sorts. His desk was a little microcosm, showing his slipping grasp on his equilibrium.

Severus too had been behaving oddly around her. Circe hadn't had much time to relish the repaired relationship between them before his erratic behaviour had begun. It was as if the roles had switched between them: she was now the lucky one if she got more than the standard courtesies expected from him. He'd been rather occupied brewing Remus's wolfsbane, but she'd seen the huge vat of it he'd brewed a few months back and knew that it couldn't be taking up any more of his time. She had tried to suppress the nauseating thought that maybe their friendship was just dwindling. But she still caught him from time to time casting her long, thoughtful looks from the other side of the Great Hall, or she'd feel the presence of heavy, dark eyes on her as she marked papers at her desk. As she'd look up, she'd see the telltale flash of a dark robe disappearing around the door and she knew that she'd just missed catching Severus in the act. She'd also had a few more dreams to the same tone as the one she'd had in the library. It didn't help that whenever she stood face to face with Severus, her mind often wandered to the myriad of bent and twisted positions he'd had her in during her slumber.

" _Oh in your council home he jumped on your bones_

_Now you're taking it time after time."_

Circe blushed, thinking that perhaps this wasn't the most child-friendly album to have put on after all. Still, the kids looked like they hadn't quite registered the meaning of the lyrics from the sheepish look she'd cast about the room. It was a catchy little number, and she couldn't help but hum along to the odd melody of the chorus under her breath.

" _Oh, what turns you on, oh?_

_Now he has gone.."_

The door to Remus's classroom flew open and Severus waltzed in. He waved his wand and the shutters at the windows slammed closed one by one. His black cloak billowed behind him as he walked up the central aisle of desks. Circe's whole world seemed to slow down as Severus strode resolutely up to the front of the classroom, almost in beat to the music.

" _Oh, what turns you on, oh?_

_Now your animal's gone"_

"Turn that racket off. Sit down. Have your textbooks ready on page three hundred and ninety-."

Severus's eyes widened as he spotted Circe, partially concealed by a rather large pile of papers on Lupin's desk.

"Hello Professor." she said with a small smile. Circe didn't think that her sat at a desk should have garnered such a dramatic response from Severus.

"P-professor Smith…" Snape stuttered as the students moved quickly around them, tidying away and rushing to their desks hurriedly.

"Thank you, Professor." Cedric said as he handed Circe's guitar back to her. Snape's eyes popped as he saw his present in the hands of a student and Circe felt a little embarrassed.

"Uhh, is there something I can help you with, Professor Snape?" she asked.

"I have been tasked with covering for Professor Lupin as he's recovering from…"

"Yeah I know." she interrupted quickly. "I told Dumbledore that I could do it. Seen as I was here anyway managing the MMAP."

Severus cast a cynical eye over to the CD player, 'Animal Nitrate' still playing at full blast. "I said turn that racket off now!" he shouted. Circe waved her wand and the lid popped open. Heavy silence settled over them.

"Alright boys, quick as you can. Tidy this all up." she said gently.

"So… who exactly is covering Professor Lupin?" Hermione asked, glancing from Circe to Snape.

"Me." Circe and Snape said in unison. They looked to each other in confusion.

"I can do it, Professor Snape." she offered cordially. Her eyes flashed over to Seamus's textbook, already open on the page Severus had instructed him to turn to, drawn in by a sepia sketch of a toothed and clawed monster on the paper.

"No, there are… important things that I feel need to be covered amongst our student body." Snape said monotonously, fixing her with a pointe glare. Circe grabbed Seamus's textbook from him.

 _Da Vinci's sketches of the werewolf anatomy?_ Her eyes drifted from the diagram over the top of the book's pages, back to Severus.

"Werewolves?" Ron asked the question for her, now he too sat at his desk with the open textbook in front of him.

"But sir…" said Hermione. "We're still going through the chapters on Hinkypunks."

"Miss Granger." Snape said viciously, rounding on the bushy-haired girl. "I was under the impression that I was taking the lesson, not you. Page three hundred and ninety four! Now!"

Circe made a point of lingering at the back of the room. She eyed Snape suspiciously, unsure of what game he was playing exactly. She thought she'd managed to get through to Severus about cutting Lupin some much-deserved slack, but perhaps not if this is what he was planning to teach. She folded her arms and fixed him with her most pointed, judgemental look as he began the lesson. He refused to look at her, or even ask her why she was still there. Instead he resolved to carry on regardless with what he had planned.

"The name 'werewolf' is derived from the old Norse-"

"Old English." Circe interrupted him. The whole class turned to her, eyes wide, and then turned back to Snape waiting for him to bite her head off like he had done with Hermione.

"Excuse me, Professor?" Snape said dryly.

"' _Wer'_ is Old-English for 'man'. Saxon. Not Norse."

Circe eyes up Severus with a look that said "try me".

He cleared his throat awkwardly and continued. "Old _English,_ then. Thank you Professor Smith…"

As Severus talked on about the origins of the werewolf and the means by which one recognises one, the class sat in their seats a little dumbfounded. Circe saw Ron elbow Harry in his ribs and cast a furtive glance back to her, a mischievous smile on his face. Circe couldn't help but colour red a touch. Severus set the class to work on copying out the diagram of Da Vinci's into their notes. Circe pretended to help Neville with his drawing as Snape paced up and down the rows of desks.

Hermione's hand shot up into the air about fifteen minutes later.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" Severus asked shortly.

"I've completed the diagram, sir."

Severus regarded her coldly and audibly groaned. "Would you like congratulations?" He asked, his voice dripping in sarcasm.

"Sir, perhaps we could learn something more relevant to us." she continued, ignoring his dig. "Perhaps you could teach us the patronus charm…?" Hermione spoke more to Circe than to Severus. Circe raised her eyebrow at Snape and stuck her lip out. A look that said "what do you think, Severus?". Snape was less eager. In fact, red hot alarm bubbles in his chest at the thought and he scowled back at her.

"I mean, it would be useful to equip you with that spell." She thought aloud. Circe's gaze settled on Harry. The boy looked at his hands awkwardly, being the only one amongst them who had been taught the spell by Remus. Circe had heard them quite a few times practising the charm when she'd come to annoy Lupin in his office. Potter had rather frustratingly been depleting Lupin's chocolate supplies of recent…

Circe regarded Severus closely. He started clenching and unclenching his hands as he often did when he was nervous. She recalled how strange Snape had been the night Black had snuck into the castle, trying to cast his patronus when her back was turned. _Can he not cast one? Is that why he couldn't help me when I was attacked at the start of the year?_

"Professor Snape, perhaps you could-"

"No!" He roared. The whole class flinched at his sudden outburst. He began to visibly shake. Circe looked at his ashen face and frowned. He caught her eye for a tense second and looked to his boots evasively. A silence, so still that Circe could hear the caw of the ravens outside, descended over the classroom. She was unsure how to proceed. What to say next. Her chest tightened as she watched Severus seemingly hyperventilating.

"Get out, all of you…" he whispered.

"But sir, we still have half an hour of the lesson left." Granger dared.

"Get out! Ten points from Gryffindor for your insolence!" The class groaned and made faces of disgust at Severus. He marched over to Lupin's desk and lay his hands down firmly on the surface, his back arched like an alley cat.

Circe could do nothing but watch him, mouth open in confusion as the students shuffled out past her. When Severus did not turn, she reluctantly turned to leave too.

"Granger, ten points awarded for a healthy, inquisitive mind." Circe muttered under her breath. "And Neville can have another five for a well-drawn diagram."

The Gryffindors grinned graciously at her and left with broad smiles, where there had previously been confused frowns. Circe, on the other hand, lingered by the classroom's door, and after one last look at his hunched back she left Severus to his brooding. She closed the classroom door behind her and sighed as she leaned heavily against the wood. She stood there for a few minutes, wondering to herself whether it would always be like this between her and Severus. Going from one emotional blow-up to another. Always having to watch him turn his anger outwards and onto people who didn't deserve it.

"Expecto patronum…" she heard, as small as a murmur. It was muffled through the heavy wooden door, but the words made Circe snap her head up and turn to the old keyhole. She peered through the tiny space and saw Severus, his back still turned to her, shoulders still raised high. His wand spewed a reedy, thin, silver light and it sputtered out.

"Expecto patronum…" he tried again, and Circe saw the silver light swirl into something that resembled a shape and then it diffused away to nought again. Severus picked up a dirty mug from Lupin's desk and threw it into the wall. As it smashed, Circe flinched and almost ran from her hiding spot.

"Expecto patronum!" Severus shouted, pointing his wand into the roof. His whole face illuminated in white light as the spell took form, his expression set in a firm scowl. Circe watched Severus's eyes follow his patronus around the room as his scowl was slowly replaced by a gut-wrenching look of pure sorrow. She tried to shuffle around and follow the trail of the patronus, but maddeningly as soon as she positioned her head in a place where she thought she could see the animal, it would scamper off in another direction.

_It's quick. Deft. Strong…._

_Wait, was that… a tail?_

Circe felt her own wand in her pocket twinge ever so slightly, and a pleasant feeling of happiness spread through her own chest. She gasped and drew back from the keyhole, massaging her collarbone as the feeling flowed through her like warm whiskey. However, before she could return her gaze to the keyhole and garner a proper eyeful of Severus's patronus, it dissipated back into nothing, flickering out like a dying lightbulb. All she could hear after that was the sound of Severus bitterly weeping.

* * *

Circe moved back to her and Lupin's table at the Three Broomsticks with another round of Butterbeers for the two of them. As she pushed Lupin's pint towards him, she caught the flinch of pain that flashed across his face and he unconsciously rubbed at his shoulder with his spare hand.

"Another bad moon?" she asked sympathetically.

"Yes. The wolf is getting more and more agitated with being trapped in the… In the place where I transform."

"Where _do_ you go to transform?" she asked curiously.

"Ohh no. The last time someone asked that, it piqued their curiosity too much and they almost got themselves killed for it."

"Surely it'd be better to tell me, just in case I stumble into it one night."

"You won't "stumble into it"." Remus said flatly. "Not without Filch having to scrape Professor-Smith-pulp

off the grass in the morning."

"What does that mean?" Circe asked incredulously.

"Drop it, Circe..."

"Eurgh, fine!" She took a swig of her beer and slumped back into her chair.

The door to the pub swung open and closed, letting in a flurry of snow. It was still bitterly cold for late January and Circe preferred to be inside, by a warming fire, drink in hand, rather than patrolling the Hogsmeade streets outside checking the Hogwarts students were behaving themselves.

 _How much trouble can they get up to in Hogsmeade anyway?_ She thought. Minerva had told her that she was to watch out for any underage wizards trying to sneak a drink in the Three Broomsticks, and where better to do that than from within the Three Broomsticks itself! Quite a few times already she'd given the death-stares to a few hopefuls who tried to sneak their way into the pub, all stopping dead in their tracks when they saw Circe's face giving them a harsh, reproachful look from her table by the fire. She felt rather hypocritical. Underage drinking in the Three Broomsticks was a Hogwarts rite of passage. Something she herself had done when she was a teenager. But still, she had to wear her 'responsible adult' hat, otherwise Minerva would have her guts for garters. The bitter wind whipped at her hair again and she glanced at the door to see Fred and George standing at the threshold. Circe narrowed her eyes at them and their faces dropped. Fred turned to his twin and gave him a clip round the ear.

"What the- George! This isn't Zonkos!" he said in mock stupidity.

"Oh, silly mistake. Ever so sorry Freddie."

They closed the door behind them and went running off into the Hogsmeade streets.

Circe couldn't help but giggle once they were gone from sight. "For goodness sake, that's the third time they've tried to sneak in here today. Or was it the fourth? I think I need to start writing names down for Minerva. D'you have a spare bit of parchment?"

Lupin delved into his pockets and drew out various bits and bobs. A lighter, a spare button, a quill.

"Umm... " Lupin patted himself down, searching for something for Circe. Eventually he drew out a long square of blank paper, his eyes lingering on it for a second longer than it should have. He hurriedly moved to push it back into his inside pocket as Circe grabbed it from his hands.

"That'll do." she said, picking up the quill and poising her hand to start writing.

"No! Don't write on it!" Lupin said, alarm in his voice. Circe stopped dead.

"Umm… why?" Lupin reached out to take it back from her but Circe snatched it away from him, grinning widely. "What is it, Remus?" she asked.

"Nothing…"

"Oh come on, Remus. You've been so secretive recently. I thought I was your friend." she pouted, putting on her best attempt at a guilt trip.

Remus sighed and looked furtively around the pub. He took his wand out and motioned for Circe to lay the paper flat. He pointed the tip to its surface and spoke in a low voice. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Circe leaned forward and watched in awe as dark splotches of ink bloomed across the parchment's surface. The splotches became shapes that she recognised… and words that she read aloud…

"Messers Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs are proud to present…"

"The Marauders Map." Remus smiled warmly.

"Is this… Hogwarts?" Circe asked in amazement, folding the map out and burying her face in it.

"It is."

"Where did you get this, Remus? There are passages on here that even _I_ don't recognise."

"I made it. Well, I co-created it."

Circe glanced at Remus. His eyes gazed at the map but Circe knew he was looking far away. Far back in the past. She knew what a look like that meant…

"With Sirius Black?"

Remus nodded. "And the others."

"The others?" she glanced back to the names on the front of the map and thought. "You must be Moony." she said with a smile.

"Wormtail was Peter. Padfoot, Sirius. And Prongs was James."

"What weird nicknames…." she paused, hoping Remus would lead on from her statement. When he didn't offer up any more information she moved on. "So, you've had this since you were in school?"

"Well… no actually. I confiscated it from Harry yesterday."

"Harry?!" she asked in surprise. "How the bloody hell did he get it?"

"Not a clue. The last time I saw the thing it was in Filch's office, under lock and key."

Circe was immersed in the detail of the map. She scanned over it's many pages and her eyes lingered over the names of people and students that she recognised. It was nothing short of amazing. It put the small map of the sewage network that Severus and her had put together to shame. The thing buzzed in her hands as she felt the strong magic radiating off it.

"God, I would have killed for something like this when I was in school."

"Hmm well it's a miracle it's still here." Remus said dully, folding his arms. "I think Severus would have thrown it into the fire if I hadn't been in the right place at the right time to smuggle it to safety."

"He saw all of this?" She asked, giving the map a rustle.

"Well, no. The map has been charmed to recognise friend and foe. Watch." Remus took his wand out again and pressed it to the paper. The map melted away before her and was replaced by a few lines of text.

Circe read them aloud " _Mr Moony would like to congratulate Professor Smith on her excellent choice of friend_." She laughed and looked up with a bright smile to Remus as the line disappeared and a new one emerged. " _Mr Prongs agrees with Mr Moony, but would like to add that her taste in lovers is considerably worse…_ "

Remus laughed as Circe scowled at him.

" _Mr Padfoot would like to hope that perhaps Professor Smith can convince the Potions Master to wash his hair properly_. Oh for goodness sake, his hair is fine! We all have moments of dubious personal hygiene in our teenage years... "

"Yes, but Severus was rather greasy when he was younger…." Remus smiled brightly, his old, warm self shining through once more.

"Hmmm…"

"But what's worse, really? Having an awkward spotty, greasy phase or literally having your teenage years plagued by this incurable curse that turned you into a monster each month?"

"Clearly you didn't spend that much time around teenage _girls."_ Circe said with a grin. Remus chuckled and took a swig of his beer.

"How… how did the others look out for you when you were… transformed?" Circe asked delicately. "Surely it would have been dangerous for them to be around a werewolf during a transformation."

"I didn't tell you? At your party?"

"No, you just said they were "there for you"."

"All of them spent months, years, learning how to become animagi. The wolf doesn't seem to mind the company of animals that much."

"Oh wow, what were their animal forms?"

"James was a deer."

"Prongs." Circe said, miming out some antlers on her own head, demonstrating her understanding.

"Peter was a rat."

"Worm-tail. Clever."

"And Sirius was a dog."

Circe felt all of her muscles tense. She looked at Remus, feeling all of the colour drain from her face.

"Was he a big, black dog that always looked a bit skinny and scruffy? Like an Irish wolfhound-"

"Irish wolfhound…" Remus said with her.

"I fed him a chicken leg…" Circe whispered, wide eyed.

"What?!"

"I've seen him, Remus. In his dog form." Lupin rose from his feet, his thighs crashing into the table and sending his beer toppling over. He grabbed the map from Circe's hands and went striding from the pub. "Remus… Remus!" She called after him, but he did not stop. Circe kicked her chair away and tried to run to catch up with him, but as she emerged out into the snowy Hogsmeade streets, Lupin was nowhere to be found. She looked around and spied Fred and George loitering in a dark spot opposite the pub, trying their best to hide from her. She rushed up to the twins and accosted them.

"Professor Lupin. Tell me which way he went and you can have _one_ beer in the pub."

"Three." George replied, arms folded.

"Fine…"

"That way." Fred said, pointing out towards the Shrieking Shack.

Circe shuffled through the snow, keeping her eyes peeled for any sign of Remus. She came to an eventual halt as she stood outside the Shack. The dank, abandoned building poised ominously on the distant hill, her friend nowhere to be seen. _Perhaps those Weasley twins led me on a wild goose chase._

"Damn it!" She said out loud, kicking up the snow in a plume of white. As the dust settled around her, Circe sighed heavily and there standing in the path up to the castle was Severus. She looked at him wordlessly and he back at her, a bewildered expression on his face. Circe hadn't seen Severus since the cover-mixup day and he looked about as happy to see her as if he'd stumbled upon Remus at the wrong time of the month...Circe looked glowingly pink stood against the white landscape, her cheeks as rosy as any angelic frescoe in the Scottish Gallery. The softly falling snow settled in her hair and on the ends of her long eyelashes. Her chest rose rhymically from her run out of the village and Severus found his own breathing mirroring hers. He took a step towards her, something deep within him longing to draw closer to her. Breathtakingly beautiful as she was, his defenses dropped for the briefest of moments.

But he forced himself to stop. The fright of his depth of feeling seized his limbs again. He halted in his tracks and turned around away from her, hoping that if he didn't have to look at her then her angelic spell would be broken. Circe almost screamed at him. Frustrated beyond words at his erratic behavior. She groaned loudly and bent down to scoop up a handful of snow.

"Will you… will you just…" she stuttered. "Cheer the fuck up, you yo-yoing, maudlin bastard!" she threw her hastily made snowball in his direction. She hadn't intended it to, but the ball of snow hit Severus square in the back of his head. She gasped as Severus froze.

Circe couldn't help herself when she began to laugh. It was partly a hysterical reaction, fearing that she may have just laid the last nail in the coffin of her and Severus's relationship. Snape turned around slowly, the last bits of snow falling off his shoulders, his inky brow raised indignantly.

"Professor Smith, that was incredibly childi-"... another snowball hit him directly on his nose.

Circe laughed, her high, clear tone ringing in his ears like church bells. Severus snarled as he ducked low to the ground and bunched together his own retaliation ball. He threw it back towards her with all his might and she squealed as it struck her on the shoulder. As one, Circe and Severus threw caution to the wind and let their pent-up tension loose on one another. The two of them descended into an all-out snow flinging session: ducking behind trees, and hiding behind rocks, Circe screaming in delight. She slipped precariously on an icy patch of ground and went toppling to the floor. Severus lost sight of her as she disappeared behind a large boulder. He moved slowly to inspect, a snowball poised in his hand as he checked to make sure Circe was okay.

"Circe…?" He asked, a little concerned that she may have hurt herself from her slip. But a moment later, Circe rose suddenly from her hiding spot and lugged a particularly large snowball at Severus. It went zooming past his ear harmlessly and he allowed himself a hint of a smile as he hurled his reserve snowball directly at her temple. After a while, they both collapsed in an exhausted slump in a drift when eventual truce was called. Both of them were left panting. Wet hair plastered to their faces and stingingly cold hands.

"Well… I'm glad I got that out of my system." Circe chuckled to herself.

"Professor, you are impossible." Severus said breathlessly, casting a side-eye at her. Circe scoffed at him and rose to her feet, stumbling around in the snow until she made her way onto the path again. As reality set in once again, she realised that she'd still lost Remus's trail and she was at a loss for what to do now. Severus, as always, was being a riddle wrapped in a mystery wrapped in an enigma. Maddeningly unpredictable, just as their little snow frenzy had proved. Circe turned to him, the ghost of a question on her lips. But what did she even want to ask him? What was there to say? And why did it feel like they were both in the pillow-talk stage after a steamy session of shagging? Perhaps it had been the breathless way Severus had called her "impossible". Perhaps it was the flush of colour in both of their faces after their activities. Perhaps it was the downright sinful way they were both eye-fucking each other in that moment.

"Impossible, am I?" She scoffed. "Takes one to know one, Snape." She bit at her bottom lip and smirked. Severus felt his loins stir at the small but powerfully seductive expression.

She broke her gaze with him with a long sigh and left. As Severus watched Circe walk away towards Hogwarts, he was left a little befuddled in her wake. How had she managed to draw him…. _Him!_... into a snowball fight?! Perhaps it was finally his time to slip into madness unperturbed. Lord knows he'd felt driven close to it by his loneliness and destructive habits in the years before Circe arrived at Hogwarts. But Circe was her own madness. Maddening in her chaotic kindness and tornado-esque presence. She was a madness that he felt happy in.

 _Who was it that said love was a type of madness anyway?_ He thought to himself.

Severus acknowledged the thought he had just had, and found it less alarming than he had led himself to believe it would be. It actually felt liberating to finally consciously admit what his heart had told him was the case for a while. He resolved to deal with the existential dread this admittance would bring later. Now, it was progress enough just to sit in the snow and privately just accept…

_I hoped, I prayed that I wouldn't fall in love with you, Circe. But I rather think it's happening against my better judgement..._


	25. "Why do I give valuable time to people who don't care if I live or die?"

Chapter 25 - "Why do I give valuable time to people who don't care if I live or die?"

Circe sat in the window of the clock tower, the great pendulum swinging rhythmically behind her. She hoped she was concealed in shadow enough, having her back pressed against the wall and her legs lying on the ledge. Yet she wanted the light to write by. She had an old notebook on her lap, a few squiggles and sentences on the page, and every so often she would peer down into the stone courtyard. Circe was wrapped up in her coat; the bitter winds were chilly as they howled through the tower and her thick scarf and gloves were rather cumbersome to her writing. She groaned as another whisp of air set her scarf fluttering into her eyes. Circe bemoaned why she hadn't chosen a less blustery location for her lyric composing. But when Minerva kept secrets from her, desperate times called for desperate measures…

Hermione's behaviour had been getting increasingly more and more erratic as the months went on. In Circe's lessons, the young girl was sleepy and tired. Always thinking it was the afternoon when it was barely mid-morning. Earlier that week Hermione had been snoozing at her desk and when Circe had shaken her awake, she'd woken hurriedly reciting the fortune-telling properties of Earl Grey compared to Assam. Circe found it all odd; Divination was in the same options bucket as Ancient Studies. There was no way Hermione could have been studying both of them. She'd tried to shake off the idea that Granger could be somehow in multiple classrooms at the same time, but Minerva's evasiveness had added fuel to the fire. Before when she'd seen the girl come out of Filius's classroom, she'd put it down to stress or being upset after the boggart lesson. Now, she wanted to confirm it. The courtyard below was a little intersection of lots of different areas of the school, and one could rarely avoid passing through this space if travelling from one subject to another. During mornings at Hogwarts, as it was now, it was a veritable crossroads. Circe's location was perfect for tracking people's movements, if a damn cold spot for surveillance.

The sound of whistling drew her eyes from her notebook again. She craned her head downwards to see the top of Remus's head, sauntering at his slow amble through the courtyard. He paused for a second, taking out the Marauder's map and looking at it in rapt detail. Eventually his eyes travelled upwards and he saw Circe peering down at him.

 _Ugh, that damn map!_ Circe thought, realising that Lupin would have seen her name hovering at the top of the tower. _What's any self-respecting people watcher meant to do when that thing exists?!_

"How- how are you doing that?!" He called up to her. He wore a deep frown of confusion as he looked from Circe back to the map.

"What?" She called down.

"Y…. you're on here twice…" he stuttered. He looked up at the clock tower and then put towards the grounds, spinning in circles.

She huffed and rolled her eyes. Perhaps the map wasn't as useful as she thought. "D'ye need glasses, Lupin?" She called down teasingly.

Remus hurriedly folded the map away and waved a shy goodbye at her. Circe made the "I'm watching you" gesture and she heard the far off sound of Lupin's confused mutterings as he walked out hurriedly towards the highland hills. He'd been doing that a lot, Circe noticed. Seeing something… or someone on the map that garnered his full attention and off in a flustered sputter he would go, no word to the wise to Circe. He hadn't really talked much to Circe since his swift exit from the Three Broomsticks some two weeks ago and she was feeling considerably shunned. Shunned by Lupin, shunned by Minerva, even Myron was doing his best to piss her off.

The Weird Sisters had a gig coming up, possibly the most important one of their history so far, in this venue in Manchester. Circe wanted to debut some of her songs, perhaps even sing a few herself. But Myron had been kicking up a fuss in true front-man style and wasn't keen to have anyone doing lead vocals bar him. At their last rehearsal she'd trialed a few tunes of hers and Myron had called them "derivative" and "lacking in emotional depth". She'd almost punched him on the nose for that. But she knew he was right, she was skirting around wanting to write what she _actually_ wanted to write about, keeping back the lyrics she didn't feel brave enough to share with anyone. It all felt very teenager-writing-in-the-journal-they-kept-under-a-pillow to her. But her heart could not deny the music that sang out of her fingertips any time she wrote down lyrics about _him._

 _Severus. My mystery wrapped in a riddle wrapped in an enigma. The man who seemingly can turn on and off his capacity to emote towards me. That's a neat trick I wish I had._ Circe thought as she smiled sadly to herself. Her little snow-themed outburst the other day came back to her. Screaming her frustration at him in a moment of pure exasperation with the man. She raised her brow as a line came to her and she hurried to write it down:

" _Show me how you do that trick._

_The one that makes me scream, she said…"_

Circe paused. Hovering her pen over the page. Forcing herself to think of Severus as the inspiration surged through her. It ached to think of Severus, but somehow that's when she was at her best. She thought of him stood alone against the white, snow-filled sky, looking almost frightened and intensely vulnerable. Shrouded in black, dark and strange in her mind's-eye like the absolute antithesis of an angelic visitation. The laughter in his eyes as he sat beside her in the snow drift, and now quickly that look had been replaced by a lost loneliness.

" _You, soft and only._

_You, lost and lonely._

_You..."_

She closed the notebook sharply, breathing out a heavy sigh as her heart ached. She decided to shelf the lyrics for now and re-visit them with a big bottle of red wine in the privacy of her conservatory later that evening. Myron would be happy enough to play their regular covers, but perhaps if she came up with one good thing, one decent song, then she might just be able to convince him to let her have it for the Manchester gig.

The sound of heels clacking on the cobbles below made Circe jolt from her ruminations. She looked down and gasped, shrinking back into the shadows as she spied Hermione. Circe checked the clock behind her. _She's five minutes early. This lesson period hasn't ended yet._ The young Gryffindor walked with a fast pace from one end of the courtyard to another, having seemingly left her class before the end of the lesson. The girl carried a thick textbook with her, just leaving Minerva's Transfiguration classrooms Circe guessed by the general direction she was striding in. She saw Hermione fiddling with something about her neck, the briefest flash of gold glinting in the light, but she was gone before Circe could see what it was.

_Great, well that's a whole morning wasted. Just to see Granger walk from one classroom to another. And now I owe Filius two hours of cover as he managed my lessons for m-_

Her thoughts halted in her head as she saw, from a completely different end of the courtyard, Hermione emerge _again_. This time, she was holding a potted shrivelfig plant and was trotting away from Sprout's greenhouses, no-doubt having just left Herbology. This time the golden necklace sat on top of her grey school jumper and Circe squinted with all her might to see what it was. Hermione gasped and almost dropped her shrivelfig as she tried to stuff the necklace away back down her shirt. She grunted in frustration and stopped in the center of the courtyard. Circe watched as Hermione lay down her plant on the floor, removed the gold chain from around her neck, and hastily stuffed it away inside her satchel, all the while casting secretive looks about her.

 _What is that…? What are you so keen to keep hidden, Miss Granger?_ Circe thought, wishing desperately her eyesight wasn't as bad as it was. She could cast an oculus charm, but she didn't want to risk being spotted by Granger or having her whispered spell being heard on the wind.

Her leering was interrupted by a screech and a flap of wings in her face. She squealed as the noise took her by surprise and looked up to see Ziggy's confused face, perched on the ledge with a parcel for her in his beak. The poor owl felt rather put out that Circe had greeted him with a scream and not the normal doting stroke of the head. Circe took a second to calm herself and muttered a swear word under her breath. She glanced back down to the courtyard and Granger was gone. She looked dead-pan at her owl and sighed.

 _How the bloody hell did he find me up here? Am I not hidden well enough?_ Circe thought, annoyed at herself. _Wait, can someone see me?_ She peered down into the courtyard, but it was still and quiet. No one was there. Puzzled, Circe grabbed the parcel that dangled from the bird's mouth and gave him a scratch behind the ears. He flew off into the open sky again, giving Circe's scarf another flutter into her face. She blew the fibers out of her mouth with a huff. Her package was weighty and dense. It almost felt like a massive stack of cards. As she tore open the parcel, she recognised Myron's elaborate handwriting on the paper that bound it and she knew what it was.

 _Oh good Lord…_ she thought. Lifting one of the thin, glossy papers from the top of the pile she saw the photo of her and Myron that had appeared in the Prophet. However, this time it was stagnant and unmoving, but still as cringe-inducing as ever. _Our flyers…_

Of course Myron had decided to go with that picture. It was everything he wanted The Weird Sisters to be: wild, bold and completely rock and roll. The flyer also displayed the band name in big scratchy white letters that reminded Circe of Pink Floyd's lettering, as well as the date and time of their upcoming gig. If Myron had chosen to go with an unmoving picture, then that could only mean he'd decided to widen their fanbase out to a more muggle based audience. It was a risky move. Myron had been known to set off Zonko's fireworks and perform levitation charms whilst onstage. Circe grimaced as she thought of the possibility of more Ministry aurors having to turn up to their show to completely wipe the whole of the audience's minds.

 _Looks like I'll be having words with the lighting crew at the venue to make the stage as dark as possible…_ Circe thought cynically. There was a small note attached to the top of the pile of flyers and she picked it up cautiously.

" _Cee,_

_Get these out to as many people as you can. If we get 500+ then you can do one of your songs. We'll talk about which one you wanna do at our next rehearsal._

_Myron_

_xx"_

"Well I don't know who the bloody hell he expects me to hand these out to…" Circe said aloud to the wind. "I can't have students at the gig." She gritted her teeth and seethed to herself. Myron was becoming a bit dictatorial, letting their measly amount of fame go to his head. _He'll graciously let me do one of my songs, will he?!_ Circe thought bitterly. Myron was giving some of the best divas out there a run for their money. She placed the stack of flyers down on the window ledge and fiddled with her scarf, trying to pull it out of her mouth. She'd had quite enough of sitting in the cold for one day, and it looked like she had a lot of lyric writing to do to impress her own Axl Rose. But then, a gust of wind howled through the clock tower and her scarf flew up into her eyes. Circe exclaimed in surprise, temporarily blind. She heard the rustle of paper as she grappled at the thick wool scarf and tugged it from her glasses, but it was too late. The wind had taken the stack of flyers and scattered them all over the courtyard below… She stood up and peered over the ledge at the mess she'd created and found a lone, dark figure standing in the courtyard's center with a flyer directly over his face.

_Severus!_

She saw Snape grab furiously at the flyer plastered to his face and tug it from him viciously. He unballed the fist of paper and Circe saw his eyes pop as he saw their picture. She couldn't help but blush furiously, but a small nervous giggle gave her position away. Severus looked up at her sharply and she saw his face soften into something more reproachful rather than bloodthirsty. Still, she thought about making a run for it and hurrying away back to her classroom before Severus had the opportunity to accost her. Yet he was the one to break the staring competition first, and she heard his quick footsteps coming up the stairs before she had gained movement back in her legs.

"I'm sorry about that, Severus-" she started.

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked her sharply, waving the flyer at her.

"It...it's a flyer for our upcoming gig."

"I know that!" Severus said, annoyance in his voice. "What are they doing all over the courtyard, Professor? I doubt you want the students to see this picture of you…"

Circe sighed, it had been a while since she'd had a Snape lecture. "Myron sent them to me, to hand out to potential gig-goers. Not here. In… in… Hogsmeade?" she offered with a confused smirk.

Severus frowned deeply at her. "Big music scene in _Hogsmeade,_ is there?" he asked in his slow, sarcastic drawl.

"I don't exactly know what he expected me to do with them. But no, they're not for students. The wind took them before I could stop them."

"I see." Severus took another look at the flyer and then back to Circe. She rather felt like she was being expected at border patrol and Snape had her passport in his hands instead . She raised an open brow at him, inviting him to say something."This… this looks rather important." he said simply.

"Yeah, it will be. By far the biggest venue we've booked so far."

"The Hacienda? Never heard of it."

Circe recoiled slightly. A little offended by Snape's indifference. "Yeah, well… it's not exactly The Royal Albert Hall, but it's an important place for up and comers. The Smiths and New Order used to play there before they got big. Absolutely mental place, I've heard."

Severus's eyes brightened slightly at the mention of The Smiths.

 _Of course you like The Smiths._ Circe thought to herself. Every teenager who grew up in the seventies and eighties had a Smiths/Morrisey phase at one point or another.

"When is it?"

"Next week." Circe responded. She delved deep and found her courage. "You should come… to the gig."

Severus blanched slightly at her offer. No one had actually invited him to something for a very long time. He couldn't quite entertain the possibility that anybody _wanted_ him to be present for something. He thought back to Circe's birthday party, and how his missing presence had gone largely unnoticed by her. It had been the same that New Year's in Edinburgh where she'd danced and drunk the night away with strangers, happy in the haze of many a drunk hour. Then, he'd been happy to lean against the bar and steal a few whiskeys as he watched her, but now Severus doubted whether he could just linger in a dark corner and go largely ignored by her. The spare lemon. The forgotten "weird friend" that she'd invited along out of politeness. It was selfish, but he would rather spare himself that pain. The mere thought of it made him feel miserable.

"I believe I am indisposed on that day." he spoke in a low voice, avoiding her bright green eyes.

"Oh…" Circe said, unable to keep her disappointment hidden. Perhaps she'd wildly overestimated how Severus felt. All those looks and stolen moments obviously meant more to her than they did to him. Her whole chest swelled as a confused hurt filled her. Being around Severus was exhausting, especially when she was on the cold end of his ever-shifting moods. There he went again, doing that trick of turning off his interest in her and making her feel as small as a mouse. Circe wanted to trust her feelings with him. Surely he must know that he had them in the palm of his hand? But how could she when he seemed to drop them on the floor when it suited him.

 _Perhaps I should have insisted that he take that guitar back…_ she thought bitterly. She looked at her feet and pushed past him, wanting that huge bottle of red wine she'd promised herself more and more. _I could tell him that Remus is coming. Really drive the nail in. But what's the point? I don't want him to come just to spite Lupin._

She left Severus staring into the wind. Both of them felt like they were wasting their time on someone who was apathetic towards the other. And it hurt. It tore at both of them.

"Accio flyers!" She said, pointing her wand into the courtyard. In seconds it was like time reversed backwards and the scattered papers flew into her hands, back into a nice neat pile.

She tried to keep a brave face on as she walked away from the clock tower. But all she had swirling around in her head was Morrisey's droning voice. Morose, maudlin words and rhythmic guitars. She couldn't quite pinpoint why she had their music stuck in her head as she reached the bottom of the steps, until she realised that the only part of the conversation Severus had shown interest in was The Smiths. Circe hated that she remembered that. She also hated that she knew exactly where her copy of 'The Queen is Dead' was, and it would be that album that she'd be having a dramatic, teenagery, stress-relieving cry to over her red wine. For now, she'd have to pick up the remains of her pride off the floor and carry on with the teaching day.

Severus was still in the clock tower, standing in the punishingly cold wind, already regretting his hasty rebuttal of Circe's kind offer. He watched her walking across the courtyard, humming to herself. The wind carried a strange melody on it. He could just about pick out the tune it was, and he almost sobbed as he recognised it.

" _In my life, why do I give valuable time_

_To people who don't care if I live or die?"_

* * *

Circe was sitting under the boughs of an old oak tree, watching her Third Year class scouring the edge of the lake for old runic stones. Her research last year had turned up much more about the grounds than just the sewage network. She'd pretty much discovered three different locations that were abandoned later on in the castle's history. One had been the old Slytherin dormitories, now absorbed by the greenhouses. The second was an old smelting forge for imbuing metals with magic, the foundations just visible near the edge of the forbidden forest, and probably had been abandoned once the practise fell out of fashion and passed into the strict Union regulations of the goblin metalworkers. And the last discovery was an old gatehouse where guardians of the castle used to monitor all who passed in and out of its grounds. The founders had placed protective, warded stones, at the foundations of all of them. Circe had seen them when she' gone exploring, lying in the grass and mud, etched with ancient runes, still pulsating with protective magic. She suspected the same protective symbols were embedded into the foundations of the castle too. And despite being half-buried in dirt and damp, they made for an excellent practical lesson.

Yet, she still hadn't managed to get 'Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now' out of her head… She hummed it to herself as she kept a watchful eye on her class. Her notebook of scribbles open on her lap, largely forgotten in her morose mood.

Circe wasn't brave enough to even entertain the idea of taking children into the Forbidden Forest, and the ruins under the greenhouses were mostly inaccessible now. That only left the lakeside ruins. The remains of the old gatehouse were the easiest to access, even if the ruins were less obvious. But if you squinted at some of the larger rocks and followed the loose lines of debris on the lakeshore, you could just about see the east wing of it. The other half was now submerged in the lake itself and Circe had to call out to Hermione.

"Granger, get back on the shore! I don't want to have to wrestle you out of the tentacles of the Giant Squid!"

Hermione wheeled around to Circe, holding her robe in her arms as she paddled knee deep in the murky waters. Circe could have predicted that Granger would have been the most enthusiastic of her Third Year class to go hunting for the old rune-embossed foundation stones. She'd already found three that Circe didn't recognise and had to look up in her advanced runic catalogue. The enthusiasm of her other students, on the other hand, left something to be desired. Malfoy and his cronies were pratting about on the shore, more concerned with skimming stones than completing the worksheet she'd set for them. Circe had no idea why he'd chosen her subject. But old wizarding families were known to get snobby over which options their children took, and she shared a bucket with Sybill's Divination class. Divination was still seen as a bit of a 'nothing' subject by many in the wizarding world.

Circe looked long and hard at Hermione, rifling through some stones in the shallows of the lake. Getting the girl out into the open air was a stroke of genius Circe had had that morning. Hermione was finding it increasingly difficult to stay awake for the whole of her lessons. Once or twice Circe had tried to peer into her open satchel at her side, but couldn't see a familiar glint of gold before the young Gryffindor woke up again. She was preoccupied. Busy and distracted. And the whole class' bags were under the oak tree with Circe. Her eyes flicked from Granger's huge, bulging satchel, and back to the girl wading in the water.

 _No… Circe… It's immoral._ She chided herself.

A stone that Malfoy was skipping bounced once...twice...three times off the water's surface and was suddenly caught in the grasp of a long silvery tentacle. Malfoy gasped as he saw the huge limb protruding from the murky black lake.

"Look! There!" he shouted. Everyone turned their head to where he pointed, mouths hanging open in awe, as the long tentacle of the Giant Squid rose higher and higher into the air. With everybody distracted, Circe's moral resolve fell and she leapt for Granger's bag.

She threw back the lid and hastily pulled book after book from it. Circe didn't know what she was looking for. A necklace? It certainly looked like that from her spying session that morning. But how would a necklace enable Granger to be in multiple places at once?

_And this'll be a completely pointless endeavour if she's wearing the th-_

Circe's thoughts halted as she delved her hand into a zipped pocket and touched upon a metal chain. Her eyes widened as she slowly drew it out of the satchel and held it in front of her face. It looked like a big medallion, and Circe squinted at the delicate glass ornament in the center of it. Toying with the dials, playing with the manœuvrable discs.

_Is… is this a- My God, I've only ever seen pictures of these…_

The class shouted in amazement as the tentacle rose some fifty feet into the air and went slamming into the water. The tentacle came down in a crashing thud, sending a torrent of water down upon the happily giggling class. Circe turned the spinning discs around the hourglass just the once…

There was a flash of light. A smash of noise. And time ground down to nothing. Then, all of a sudden it went spooling in the wrong direction. Slowly at first, and then faster and faster…

And Circe went spinning backwards in time.

The world reeled around her in a sickly daze. As if someone had pressed rewind on the video player. The tentacle of the Giant Squid sank below the water, Hermione walked backwards through the lake's shallows, she even saw herself with her class receding up the hill and back towards the castle. When she came to a standstill, it felt colder and crisper. The sun was still fairly high in the sky and there was nobody around her as there had been moments ago. She rose to her feet, feeling breathless and dumbstruck, and as she tried to swallow what had just happened, the clock tower behind her struck one o clock.

_An hour ago… I've gone back in time an hour!_

Circe thought furiously from under the boughs of the oak tree. Where had she been an hour ago?

Her eyes were drawn to the clock tower in the distance, the sound of the bells still reverberating in the still air.

_Sitting in the clock tower…_

She gathered her courage, cramming the timeturner in her coat pocket and raced up to the castle. As she reached the walls of Hogwarts the sound of whistling made her halt. Where had she heard that tune before?

 _Remus!_ She thought. She was about to rush to her friend when she hesitated, thinking of what she had read about time travel and the dangers of making your presence known in the past. What would happen if she changed time? Messed with what had already happened? She shrunk back into the shadows, hiding in the bushes just by the entrance to the stone courtyard.

"How are you doing that?" she heard Remus ask again.

"What?" her own voice called back to him from up in the clock tower. Circe shivered. _That's my voice. MY voice…_

"Y…you're on here twice."

Circe's eyes widened in alarm. She remembered the odd comment from the first time she'd had this conversation. Remus was seeing her on the Marauder's map twice because she _was_ there twice. She clamped a hand over her mouth, desperately trying to calm her ragged, panicked breathing. What if Remus came looking for her? Her legs began to shake as she heard Lupin walking from the stone courtyard and out towards her hiding spot in the bushes. She sucked in a long breath and stepped out of her hiding spot, a mask of calm indifference falling into place just in time. She smiled brightly at Lupin as he emerged from the courtyard, a deeply puzzled look on his face.

"How…?" he muttered at Circe.

"D-Do you like my gemini charm?" Circe sputtered. Remus looked back to the clock tower, unable to see Circe from where he now stood. He then returned his gaze to the Circe in front of him with a deeply troubled look on his face.

"Gemini charm?" He asked. "Why are you practicing that?"

"Uhh… good for Duelling and distractions isn't it. I wanted to see if a Dementor could be fooled by the charm. Go for my clone rather than me. You know?"

"Oh no, Dementors can see through all of that." Remus added helpfully. "They can latch on to your scent. They can't be deceived with an imitation of you."

"Ah, shame." Circe said with a tut.

"It's funny…" Remus pondered, touching a hand to the map concealed in his inside pocket. "I thought the map saw through illusions and disguises."

"Perhaps it's broken…"

"Perhaps." Remus said with a far off look in his eyes. He cleared his throat awkwardly and went on his way, off to somewhere or to meet someone that obviously made him shifty and uncomfortable. Circe didn't have time to be suspicious of Lupin though, being too relieved to have fobbed him off enough that he didn't ask any more questions about her.

Circe sat down in the grass, her head in her hands as realisation of exactly how much of a precarious situation she was in. She almost felt like not moving, staying stock still and hiding somewhere until time caught up with her… or she caught up with time. A familiar screech in the skies made her raise her head from her hands. Ziggy swooped low and settled on the bush that she had previously been hiding in, looking at her with a neatly wrapped parcel in his beak. She remembered the owl coming to her earlier that day with his delivery and she smiled as she reached out to him to take it. She stopped as she realised that if she took the parcel now, then she would be altering time yet again.

"Ziggy…" she cooed at the bird. He shifted on his branch, agitated that Circe hadn't taken her delivery from him yet. "Ziggy, look! I'm up there!" She pointed up to the top of the clock tower and hoped the owl followed her. Ziggy looked from Circe to the tower and then back to her. His dappled head almost spun off him in confusion. "Ziggy, up there!" she pointed again, shooing him into action. The bird spread its wings and took off into the air. He circled in the sky above Circe for a few seconds, before flying up towards the clock tower. Circe sighed, relieved that she'd managed to set the order of things right.

 _So Ziggy startles me..._ and she heard a small, quiet screech from herself up in the tower. _Then I unwrap the package and put the flyers down on the windowsill. And then the wind…_ Almost on cue Circe heard the rustle of the wind and the flutter of many papers being spewed into the air. She could only imagine what the mess of the courtyard looked like from the ground. A single flyer drifted outside of the courtyard and Circe watched it dance in the breeze and come to settle just by her feet. She picked it up with a heavy sigh, cringing again as her eyes settled on the photograph of her and Myron.

A muttered collection of colourful expletives shook her from staring at the unflattering picture. A voice she recognised in an instant, a voice that sent a shiver down her spine. _Severus!_

Circe cautiously peered around the entrance to the courtyard and saw Snape striding purposefully towards the stairs of the clock tower, a crumpled flyer in his hands. She cast a cautious glance up, and saw that her past self was not peering down into the open space. She sucked in a deep breath and stole away inside the courtyard, running to the base of the tower. She wanted to hear the conversation between her and Severus again, perhaps so she could work out what went wrong. Why it had left such a bitter aftertaste in her mouth. She heard Severus's deep voice echoing through the wooden rafters above and she chose a spot under the stairs that left her concealed but still able to listen.

"I don't exactly know what he expected me to do with them..." She heard herself explaining in her decidedly less velvety voice than Severus's.

"I see. This... looks rather important."

"Yeah it will be."

Circe lay her head against a wooden beam and eavesdropped on her own conversation. She could feel the knot of disappointment reforming in her stomach as the inevitable let down was coming. Her voice was lost in the caverns and space of the tower, carried away by the wind. But Severus's voice penetrated deep into her chest and reverberated around her ears.

"I believe I am indisposed on that day."

Hearing it a second time didn't ease the stab of pain for her. She closed her eyes and waited for her flaccid response.

"Oh."

 _Ask him what he's doing! Ask him why? Say something, Circe!_ She screamed internally. But all that followed was the laboured steps of her former self descending the stairs in grim defeat. She pressed herself further into the shadows as past-Circe walked out of the clock tower and away across the courtyard. It didn't help to have heard it again. All she felt was hollow regret and despondency. She almost forgot that Severus was still in the tower above, he'd gone so quiet. A few moments later she flinched and her eyes flew open as she heard the slow, thudding footfalls of Severus descending the stairs. Again, she pressed herself back into the shadows and held her breath as his black silhouette filled the doorframe. For a while she watched him, leaning heavily on the doorframe, his face turned out towards the highland hills. She tried to keep her breaths as shallow and even as possible, not daring to move an inch. He was a tableau of anguish. A stark black figure framed against the overcast sky. Despite her own pain, Circe's heart ached empathetically for him.

_Why does he feel so conflicted? If he didn't want to come… if he doesn't care… Then why does he act like this when I'm out of sight?_

The wind picked up and howled through the tower. Severus's cloak kicked up dramatically around him and for a moment he looked raven-esque, like he had huge wings. Circe took the opportunity to rifle in her pocket for the flyer she'd picked up earlier. With the wind as her cover, she took her wand out and scratched a final message into the gloss. A final hand of friendship. If this didn't work in the way she wanted, then perhaps it was best to let Severus slip away.

She glanced down at her hastily drawn message and sighed, giving it a good luck kiss, before folding it up small and levitating it in front of her. The strength of the wind sent it floating off to the left and Circe sucked in her breath as she fought to set it right. She strengthened her concentration on the spell and hovered the piece of paper over Severus's pocket. With a final burst of effort, she guided it into his cloak pocket and let her wand drop. Severus swooped away, off about his business, when the wind dropped and she was finally left alone.

Circe let out a long held in sigh of relief. She resolved to stay in her secluded spot, no matter what tempting opportunity to sneak around presented itself. She waited for the minutes to tuck by, mentally tracking what her past self would have been doing. She knew that her lesson with the Third Years would be well underway by now, but how long into the lesson it was she couldn't say. She had to time her run down to the lake just right, as there were no convenient bushes to hide in if she was spotted. Circe rose from her spot and cautiously made her way over the courtyard. Peering down towards the lake, she saw her class spread out in all directions and Hermione wading in the shallows. She herself was concealed by the trunk of the oak tree. Malfoy and his cronies were already skipping stones and ignoring their worksheet.

 _Almost time…_ she thought. She steeled herself, ready to run into place.

The great tentacle of the Giant Squid rose from the depths of the lake and Circe watched as her students rushed forward to gawk at the creature.

_Now!_

Circe sprinted down the hill, hoping that the lake monster served as enough of a distraction. She reached the trunk of the oak tree just in time to see her past-self disappear into the ether, the timeturner in her hands. She panted and leaned against the tree, a wave of relief washing over her as water splashed down around her. The students squealed in delight and shouted "Again!" at the beast. Malfoy and his cronies threw more stones at it to invoke another splash.

_Now what to do with Granger's little secret?_

Circe touched a hand to the time turner still stored safely in her pocket. She enclosed her fingers around the gold chain and lifted it out into the air, watching it swing in front of her face. She looked at Hermione's satchel on the floor and then at the bushy haired girl stood in the lake's water. She picked the bag up, a wicked thought passing through her head.

_Definitely immoral… I shouldn't keep it…_

Circe threw caution to the wind and hastily shoved the timeturner into her pocket. She bundled the textbooks back into Hermione's bag and shuffled over to the Slytherin boys.

Circe walked over to Crabbe and leaned in close to the stout, stocky boy's ear.

"Ten galleons to you if you throw this into the lake."

"Wot?" The boy asked, looking gormlessly at his Professor and then at the satchel.

"You heard me. You want the galleons or not, Crabbe? That's an awful lot of Honeydukes chocolate…"

The Slytherin needed no more convincing. He grabbed Hermione's bag and swung it around him like a shot-put. When he finally let go, the bag and its contents went soaring over the lake waters and landed with a heavy splash some thirty feet from the shore.

Hermione turned to Crabbe, open mouthed and ashen faced.

"What did you do?!" She screamed. Circe watched with a hand over her mouth, feigning complete surprise as Granger's satchel sank below the black water.

 _I'm definitely going to hell for that…_ Circe thought, a slight smile concealed by her hand.


	26. "Just Like Heaven."

Chapter 26 - "Just Like Heaven."

Severus held Circe's note in his hands. He read it again, staring down at her face, unmoving in the Muggle photograph. She smiled beguilingly at her eccentric front man, radiating energy and life and spirit. He absorbed the words again, painstakingly lingering over each letter, analyzing every syllable.

"' _You've been in the house too long, she said'. Think about it. Please xx"_

He grumbled to himself, noting the Smith's reference she'd slyly put in there. His fingers traced the "x"'s. Kisses. From her… He wondered again how she'd got it into his pocket. It was anyone's guess. He'd found it the evening after their clock tower conversation as he was undressing for bed, and he'd avoid her like the plague ever since. He'd even pulled a sickie just so he could sulk and fret his room, pacing the perimeter like a caged tiger. Countless times he'd scrunched up the flyer and thrown it away, only to fish out of the bin a few minutes later. And every time his eyes would find her face, his head would be sent spinning again.

Since their afternoon in the snow he'd found himself dreaming of Lily a lot. But not the screaming and vengeful banshee of his nightmares before. Now she seemed more at peace. Distant, beautiful and gone but now more serene and calm. When he found himself startling awake, hot tears in his eyes, he found that his tears came not from pain at seeing her face again, but rather from a place of happy remembrance. A wholly different yet equally powerful energy filled him whenever he saw Circe's face in that photograph. He realized, for the first time, that he adored Circe not because of how much like Lily she was, but because of how much she wasn't. The thought of falling for anyone other than Lily terrified him still, but it had rather happened despite his conscious wishes. Like watching the tide come in, and he a helpless sandcastle on the shore feeling the waves erode at his foundations. He could feel himself crumbling away for her, and he raged against his demise, but somehow longed for the embrace of the sea too.

He couldn't remember when he changed out of his wizarding robes, but he stood in front of his mirror staring back at his expressionless face. The flyer too was stuck to his mirror, again unsure how it had ended up there. He found Circe's face again and his stomach lurched.

 _Please, don't make me fall for you…._ He thought as an aching gripped at his heart. _It hurts so much._

Severus tugged at the lapels of his black jacket and looked himself up and down from boots to forehead. He cast a sour look back to Eileen Prince's picture on his desk.

"No word of encouragement this time, mother?" He asked bitterly. Last time, before Circe's birthday party, he had fought. Fought against whatever compulsion drew him to her. Now, the fight had all but left him. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, thinking on how a chocolate yule log had got him into this agony.

"Fuck it." he whispered as he strode from his room.

He walked the Hogwarts halls like a man in a dream. It was late, and a Saturday, so mercifully there was no want to run into in his muggle attire. Yet he could not avoid prying eyes forever given his ignorance; he had never been to Manchester and therefore apparating there was a problem. He'd have to beg some floo powder off of Minerva and find a fireplace somewhere down in Hogsmeade. Severus knocked on her office door and waited. He heard raised, anxious voices in conversation behind it and listened for a brief moment. He frowned as he heard Minerva's voice arguing with that of a nervous sounding fellow.

"Granger should not be penalised because of one Neanderthalic thug, Minister."

 _Minister?! Is that Fudge?_ Severus thought, shaken from his introspective trance.

"We've been dredging that lake with our investigators all afternoon. Is she _sure_ that it was in her satchel?"

"She was positive."

"So where the hell is it? We can't just leave a magical item like that to the grindylows!"

"And what exactly will happen if we do, Cornelius? The only people who know it's down there are you and I and even _we_ can't find it!"

"I suppose you're right, Minerva." Fudge sighed.

"So, in terms of Grangers replacement…?" Mcgonagall prompted.

"I'll have another sent to you ASAP, alright?" He said exasperatedly.

"Thank you, minister." Minerva said primly.

Severus knocked on the door again, already feeling like he'd heard too much. Minerva invited him inside and the door swung open for him. True enough, there was the Minister for Magic standing deflatedly at Minerva's side.

"Oh, Severus!" Minerva exclaimed, unfolding her clasped hands and standing up from her desk.

"It's all right, Minerva." Fudge said with a small wave. "I think we're finished here. Just make sure that Crabbe boy is in detention for the rest of his natural bloody life."

"Vincent Crabbe?" Snape asked. "A Slytherin student? Surely this should have been referred on to me."

"Oh, I'll tell you Monday Severus." Mcgonagall said with a dismissive flutter of her sleeve. "Are you off somewhere?" She asked as she eyed him from head to toe. She couldn't quite keep the surprise from her face. Snape cleared his throat and looked shyly at his shoes.

"Anyway, I'm off." Fudge said in the silent pause. He shuffled out of the room, donning his bowler hat as Minerva gave him one last wave goodbye.

"I… um... Floo powder. Do you have any?" Snape asked awkwardly.

"OOh.." she delved into one of her desk drawers, muttering to herself as she searched. Eventually she plopped a velvety green drawstring pouch on the surface and smiled. "There! Take the whole thing. You'll need to walk down to Hogsmeade to find a fireplace in the floo network though. I think Rosmurta has a-"

"Yes… yes… I know." He said shortly, grabbing the purse. "Thank you."

"Where are you off to?" She asked again before he could turn to leave.

"Manchester."

"Oh… Meeting someone?" She pushed.

"Yes. Well… No. Just to watch them…"

"Excuse me?"

"A concert! Watch them at a concert…"

"Oh, I see!" Mcgonagall chuckled. "Goodness Severus, you had me concerned for a moment. Do tell Circe to "break a leg" from me, or whatever you say. Or is that just for the theatre?"

"I will." Severus said shortly, turning from her and striding out of the office. But he froze in place as he realised Mcgonagall had tricked him into admitting he was going to meet Circe… "She told you she was in Manchester tonight." He said as his skin turned red hot.

"Mmm hmm." Minerva confirmed with pursed lips. "Have a nice time. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." She concluded with a bright-eyed grin. She waved her wand and her office door slammed in Snape's face. He was left standing in the corridor, consumed with mortification.

* * *

Severus strode confidently out of the stage door of the Palace Theater in Manchester. He felt rather naked without his great black cloak swishing behind him and pulled nervously at the lapels of his leather jacket again. He was still a little sooty from his turn through the floo network, but he was otherwise unscathed. The ash on his boots was gone in seconds as he made his way down into Didsbury. The city traffic whirred by him in a cacophony of car horns, screeching tires and glaring headlights. For gone 8 o'clock the streets were still busy with pedestrians but Severus kept his hands in his pockets and his eyes downcast as he dodged and weaved among them.

Severus heard The Hacienda before he saw it. There was quite the crowd outside its doors, talking and smoking on the pavement, and every time the front doors opened a wave of noise would burst onto the street. He wondered how the girls stayed warm in their strappy tops, painfully short skirts and fishnet tights without warming charms. Muggle fashion was an absolute mystery to him.

 _The last time I voluntarily wore a bucket hat, I was four._ He thought judgmentally.

Severus shouldered his way through the crowd to the box office. A muggle girl sat behind the glass with four green butterfly clips in her hair, smothered in an oversized red and blue FILA sweatshirt. She looked at him over her oval sunglasses and asked Severus "Wot ya after, mate?" in a thick Mancunian accent.

"Umm… one adult for Weird Sisters please."

"Oh, mate, we're at full capacity for that gig t'night." She chewed on her gum, looking strikingly bovine.

"Do you call everybody "mate"?" Severus asked, his temper bubbling up.

The young girl blinked pointedly and purred "I can call ye "love" if ya like." As sweet as saccharine. "Still doesn't mean we've got enneh tickets left."

"Oh this is ridiculous. Look, I know the guitarist…"

"Ahh I've 'eard that one before. "I know the DJ, I know the drummer, I know the back up singers" blah blah blah..."

"Fucking hell!" He growled, thumping on the glass.

"Ere, watch it mate! Or I'll get the bouncers over." she said harshly, waving at the security to make good on her threat.

"Circe Smith, the guitarist?!" He asked, summoning his last shred of calm. He eyed up the chunky egg-headed bouncer staring gruffly in his direction. He was all bulk and practically neckless. Severus gulped. To his surprise, the girl's eyes brightened and she looked up at him sharply.

"You do know her… Oh, wait…" She held up a finger at him and delved into the desk drawer at her side. Severus rolled his eyes and folded his arms impatiently over his chest. The girl pulled out a sealed envelope and peered at the words written on the front. "Are you Severus Snake?"

"Snape." He said through gritted teeth.

"Whatever. Yeah, she left this ticket for you during the soundcheck. Told me to look out for someone who looks like Trent Reznor." She laughed as she slid a single ticket through the postbox. Snape grumbled and snatched it up. "Yer a bit late though, mate. They started about twenty minutes ago, I think. They must be killin' it. Sounds fuckin' mental in there."

The door to the club swung open and the roar of the crowd flooded outwards like a tidal wave of sound. Severus walked into the venue before the girl could draw him into any more conversation. Immediately he was hit by the noise, and the heat, and the scream of the guitars. The lights strobed around him, making him feel dizzy as he waved a hand in front of him. It looked like everything was in slow-motion. It felt to him like he was wading through thick black velvet, and so were the bouncing bodies of the crowd before him. Leaping upwards like salmon from a stream. The guitars screamed again and Severus snapped his head towards the stage. From where he stood he couldn't see who was on stage, but he recognised the tune of the hypnotic introduction to 'How Soon Is Now?'. It echoed in his head, as potent as any drug.

The dance floor was horrifically crowded and Severus skirted at its edges, hovering near a column. He tried to peer over the heads and through the outstretched arms of the fans, as dense as a forest of branches. He saw Myron leaning against his mic stand, singing into the device with a deep, lilting voice. He was seemingly ignoring the people grappling for his legs at the front of the crowd, lost in his own performance, but as he looked up and sang the chorus, he pointed the mic out over the crowd and the noise swelled as everybody sang along with him. Then, all at once, there was Circe staggering forward with her guitar in hands. Myron hooked her around the neck and pressed the mic to her mouth, inviting her to perform the next line.

She sang in her clear, melodic voice " _I am human and I need to be loved/ Just like everybody else does!"_

Seeing her hit him like a sledgehammer to the chest. He felt himself shrink back from the stage lights and back into the shadows. Panic rose up in him and he almost turned and left right then and there. Instead he opted to head for the bar, unable to keep his gaze steadfast on her without a stiff drink in him. He shoved his way through the amassed people to the front of the bar and hastily ordered a whiskey.

"You… you want a whiskey?" The confused barman asked.

"Is there something wrong with that?" Severus asked pointedly.

"Uhh it's just a bit of an… unusual order for a venue like this."

"Fine, a beer then. Whatever." He said shortly. The barman nodded and returned with a bottle of Fosters. Severus handed over a muggle note he'd saved from his childhood years, unsure of how much it was worth. It had taken quite a bit of searching to find something that he could use in a muggle place, but he had luckily found the crinkled note in his old school trunk. The barman looked down at it with a puzzled expression.

"Uhh…"

"Is there a problem?" Severus asked, unease rising in his chest again.

"Mate, this is a note for ten shillings. We haven't used non-decimal currency since nineteen seventy one."

_Fuck…_

"I uh…" Severus began to panic. He gripped at his wand, concealed in his jacket pocket, preparing himself to cast a confundus charm.

"Here you are, buddy." A feminine voice said beside him, slapping down a crisp ten pound note on the bar top. "And get us two more tequila slammers."

Severus turned to his side and saw a shock of pink hair. A young woman stood beside him, eyeing him up with a knowing grin on her face. Snape felt himself blushing fiercely, sweat already making his palms slick as he recognised the girl.

"Miss Tonks." He managed to choke out.

"Professor." She responded with a giggle. "Fancy seeing you here."

Severus cleared his throat awkwardly as the barman placed two orange shot glasses of tequila in front of them, with two lemon wedges and a salt shaker.

"Here's your change, love." He said to Tonks, handing back a few coins to her with a flirtatious smile.

"Cheers babe." She said, not even bothering to look at him. "Still not giving you my number…" The young barman slumped away looking like a wounded puppy. "Not up to scratch with your muggle money, Professor?" She asked Severus, picking up her lemon wedge. Snape felt mortification seeping through his guts for the second time that night. Tonks was an ex-pupil of his. She'd only left Hogwarts a few years ago to intern in the British Auror Office. Was this allowed? Should he be socialising with her in this fashion? He didn't answer her, keeping his eyes firmly on his beer and the single tequila shot in front of him.

"Salt first. Then shot. Then lemon wedge." She said with a cheeky smile. Severus turned to her, an eyebrow raised.

"Is this what they've been teaching you at the Ministry, Nymphadora?" He asked cynically.

"Don't call me Nymphadora!" She shouted. Her hair color seemed to ripple into red and purple and then back to pink. Otherwise unnoticeable in the club's flashing lights if Severus hadn't known of her shape shifting abilities. "I hated it when you called me that in Potions…"

 _I know. That's why I did it._ He thought. He picked up the shot and downed it in one, not bothering with the salt or lemon. He grabbed his beer and curtly nodded to her, trying to slip away from the bar.

"So, you know The Weird Sisters?" Tonks asked before he could slip back into the crowd. "I've been to a few of their gigs now."

"Goodbye, Miss Tonks." Severus said curtly. "I shall send you reimbursement for the drinks as soon as I'm back at Hogwarts."

He heard Tonks giggling at the bar, his discomfort obviously entertaining to her. How strange a world it was when Severus was the one being made uncomfortable by his own students…

The song came to an end and the crowd continued to roar in the quiet. Circe wiped herself with a towel and took a long swig of her drink. She squinted into the crowd and the bright lights blinded her. Myron shouted into his mic.

"How y'a doing, Hacienda?!"

The crowd screamed back. Circe smiled and waved.

"We're gonna do something a bit different now folks. I'm gonna take a step back and let my Sister in arms sing this next one." The crowd shouted again and Circe looked up in alarm at Myron. She thought that they'd decided not to go with her stuff tonight.

"Myron, what the hell?" She whispered to him as he pulled her into another hug. It had literally been last night that he and Circe had put the final flourishes on the song she'd been working on. Many cigarettes and bottles of wine later, lyrics and music had come together under both of their guidance. Eventually laying it all bare to Myron who it was who occupied her thoughts and kept her at Hogwarts. It was cathartic to finally get it out of her, and for her old friend to know and understand how intense her feelings were. Articulated into something that made sort of sense out of the scramble that was her head. It was still fresh. It was still raw. And at the last minute she'd panicked and decided not to push Myron to perform it.

"He ain't here, Cee. You said he told you he wasn't coming." He whispered back to her. He didn't know of her note, or the ticket she'd left at the box office. It was a desperate grasp at hope, and one she expected to find in tatters at the end of the night when she asked the box office girl if anyone had come to collect it. "Come on...It's good. I like it."

"But what if _they_ don't like it?" She looked nervously out at the waiting crowd.

"Then fuck 'em."

Circe nodded and slowly approached the mic stand, staring out across the waiting faces. They all looked rather strangely like dementors in the dazzle of the stage lights, as Circe could barely make out one face among them, shrouded in dark as they were. She absent mindedly started tuning her guitar as she began her preamble.

"Umm… y'allright Manchester?" She said, rather less confidently into the mic as Myron had. The audience response, however, was just as enthusiastic and her confidence came back a touch. "This song's about a…. gentleman friend."

A whistle came from the crowd.

"Oi, shuddup!" Circe shot back with a laugh. "Yeah, someone who I feel very strongly for, but for the life of me I can't quite figure him out. And we're never quite on the same page…" She looked back at her strings, lost in thought for a moment as she made the last tuning corrections on her guitar. "Anyway, hope you enjoy it."

* * *

Circe practically flew to the green room once the gig was done. She had a quick shower and changed into something fresh: already having chosen an oversized brownish-yellow plaid shirt to throw over a white vest top, paired with her high-waisted blue jeans as her post-gig outfit. Myron was beguiling a few of the girls who'd come to the stage door and Circe thought it best to leave him to his grafting. Somewhere towards the end of the last few numbers, she'd spotted a bobbing head of pink hair out in the darkness, beyond the stage lights, and she knew instantly who it was. The DJ had taken over for the night now and Circe blended into the dancing crowd as the strobes flickered away and the pounding music thumped in her chest. She looked around for the shock of pink hair and smiled broadly as she spotted it again, weaving her way through the dancefloor, making a beeline to the girl she'd spied. She was at the bar, buying more drinks and talking to the eager-beaver barman with too many chat-up lines that Circe too had met before the gig. Circe lept on her back, taking her by surprise and squealed in her ear.

"Tonks, you fart-knocker! How are you?"

Tonks wheeled around, Circe still on her back, laughing in delight. She hopped off and Circe took her old friend into a strong hug. It had been a rather long time since the two women had seen each other. But their unusual friendship from their school days still burned strong, despite their age gap. Tonks had been in her First Year when Circe and Myron had been in their last. But the eccentric, oddball had fallen into their friendship group as naturally as if she had been their peer. Circe rather looked at her as if she was a younger sister, having looked out for her since she was eleven years old. Keeping the pure-blood Slytherin bullies off Tonks's back when they found out her mother was a Black, encouraging her to morph into Professors to buy them all beer down in Hogsmeade, duelling together in the club to test each other's wand skills when Tonks had told her she wanted to be an Auror when she grew up. Tonks was very much part of Circe's surrogate magical family.

"Circe! Oh, I've missed you." Tonks sighed as they rocked in their embrace.

"How was it? The gig?" Circe asked, gesturing towards the stage. "I'm gonna fucking kill Myron, I asked him to leave those whiz-bangs in the green room. Can't believe he hid them in his sleeves! Do you think the Ministry will be on to us?"

"It was brilliant, Cee. Best one you've done so far. Don't worry about the Ministry, I'll take care of it." Tonks replied, giving her a sly wink of her eye. "Where _is_ Myron?" She asked, looking around the venue.

"Oh, chatting up some girls backstage. Thought I'd get out of there before I was forced to walk in on some kind of threeso-" Circe came to a grinding halt as Severus turned around from the bar to face her. Her jaw almost hit the floor as she saw his face, and he stared back at her feeling like he was bright red and sweating from every pore in his body.

"S-Severus." she stuttered. She hadn't recognised him in his muggle clothes, standing at the bar with his back to her.

"Yeah, look who I found at the bar trying to buy drinks with money that's over twenty years out of date!" Tonks said teasingly.

"Miss Tonks won't let me leave…" Severus said weakly, shifting his eyes to the floor. "She keeps buying me drinks despite my protestations..."

"Haha, every time I go to the bar he follows me to ask what else I need to add to his debt! I think he feels a bit weird about the whole " _ex-pupil"_ thing…" Tonks whispered into Circe's ears. "It's just fun to see his awkward little face after all those years of Potions detentions." she added, descending into snorts of laughter.

Tonks might as well have not said anything to Circe though. All she could do was stare slack-jawed at Snape, completely oblivious to all else around her

"You came, Severus." Circe breathed. She felt elated. Ecstatic. A smile bloomed on her face despite Snape's shifty glances from his shoes to her bright eyes.

 _Oh god, he must have heard the song…_ she realised as a look of sickening alarm replaced her smile.

"Yes well, I thought I'd rather been in the house too long." Severus muttered, just about managing to look Circe in the eye for a second as a coy smile tugged at the side of his mouth. Circe laughed, despite her embarrassment. She hoped that she'd left her lyrics vague enough that he hadn't twigged anything.

"Did you enjoy the gig?" She asked probingly.

"It was… an experience." He replied enigmatically. He began clenching and unclenching his hands again. It suddenly felt sweltering in the club.

"Circe!" A voice called from over the noise of the venue. They all turned as one and saw Lupin pushing through the crowd, hands in his pockets.

"Remus, you're here too!" She said. It finally struck her just what a surreal situation this was. Severus the Potions Master and Remus the werewolf in a muggle music venue in Manchester, for _her_ gig… It was like seeing a pair of crocodiles in the Arctic. They weren't quite diminished beyond recognition, but they weren't quite their wonderful, magical selves.

"Well I said I would be, didn't I? Well done, mate." Lupin said, giving her a pat on the arm.

"Cheers."

Severus stiffened at Lupin's presence and his back straightened as he tried to make himself taller than his perceived opponent. Circe cleared her throat as she looked from one to the other.

 _Oh for god sake, we're still doing this, are we!?_ She thought.

Tonks pulled at her sleeve, drawing her away from her chastising thoughts.

"Oh, sorry. Remus this is Tonks. Tonks this is Remus Lupin." She said hurriedly. "Remus is the new DADA Professor at Hogwarts. Tonks works for the Ministry as an Auror."

"Hi." Tonks stepped in front of Circe, batting her eyelashes and taking Lupin's hand into a firm handshake. "I'm a _trainee_ Auror, actually." She continued as her hair turned sunny yellow. Remus shook back wordlessly, utterly transfixed by her.

Circe laughed, amazed at Tonk's boldness. She'd always known Tonks was a terminal flirt, but seeing it in action (especially against her friend, Remus) was an interesting spectacle to behold. She turned to Severus, eyes wide, trying to impart her incredulity at him. Both of them stood in silence, staring at one another with sly smiles as the lights played off their faces. Remus was the first to break the spell.

"What are we thinking for the rest of the night, Circe?" He asked.

"I wasn't going to-" Severus muttered.

"Do you want to go somewhere else?" Circe said quickly, interrupting whatever Severus was about to say. The noise suddenly became too loud, the lights suddenly too garish. "I know somewhere on the Oxford Road a little-"

"Quieter?"

"Exactly." She took Severus's hand before he could come up with an excuse, and led him out of the club with a warm smile.

He didn't resist her, letting her lead him away by the hand. She felt soft and comforting and he prayed she didn't mind too much that he was clammy and cold. Like a lot of things that night, he just let it happen. He'd rather enjoyed seeing her, he conceded. When he was hidden and concealed in the crowd, calmer partly due to Tonks's alcohic imbuements. When he could watch her without her knowing of his presence. She was good. Very good, in fact. He wasn't quite brave enough to admit to himself that she might have talked of him in her music.

 _It could all just be creative liberties, after all_. He thought, and Severus had never been one to make leaps of faith. But there was one particular phrase in her song that had resonated with him. A line that could have been penned by himself. It seemed rather ironic that it was this phrase that filled his mind as she stood before him, his hand clasped in hers. He never wanted her to let go, hoping that they'd stay lost in the crowd of The Hacienda forever. As she led him towards the exit, she still held his hand firm. This was the longest physical touch they'd ever shared...

" _Why are you so far away, she said._

_Why won't you ever know that I'm in love with you."_


	27. "And we'll burn the damn thing down."

Chapter 27 - "And we'll burn the damn thing down."

Circe and Severus walked side by side down the Oxford Road. They both felt considerably more sober in the chill and the quiet of the street, ambling along in silence like old companions. Yet Severus felt that this would be the true confrontation of the night: quietly chatting here on the pavement, not in the pits of The Hacienda in screaming noise. They'd gone ahead together to wherever Circe was leading them, whilst Tonks collected her jacket from the cloak room. Remus, rather gallantly, had volunteered to wait with her while the attendee searched for it.

It was a cold night and Circe shivered. She had made such a quick exit from The Hacienda, so utterly surprised by Severus's appearance, that she'd left her coat in the green room. She muttered an expletive and pulled the thin plaid shirt she wore a little tighter around her. Severus glanced at her and frowned. He shrugged off his jacket in an instant and nudged her on the shoulder.

"Here." He said, holding it out to her.

"Oh, but then you'll be cold." Circe replied, looking at the thin grey jumper he wore.

"I'm fine. How far to this place?" Severus asked, placing it around her shoulders. Circe's stomach filled with butterflies as his smell of burnt herbs and sandalwood filled her nose. She looked at his wind-blown face, the angular strong jaw he possessed clenched firm in the cold night air. Something Roman-esque and deeply imposing settled over his features again and Circe swooned at him.

"Five minutes." She managed to mumble back. Severus nodded and he stepped back into place at her side like a centurion. "What… made you change your mind then, Severus?" She asked, watching his face carefully.

Snape shoved his hands in his pockets and stared down at the pavement. His mind went completely blank as he saw the lights of the city reflected in the puddles beneath his feet. How could he possibly articulate to her why he found himself walking at her side on a Saturday night in a northern city, his ears ringing after the noise of The Hacienda?

"I suppose I was...curious."

"Curious?" she asked.

"Yes. Curious of how I might behave if I were to decide to…"

"Live?" Circe said with a half-laugh.

Severus flinched a little at her off the cuff comment, but ultimately she was right. More right than she probably knew. For so long he'd allowed grief to consume and define him, turning him into someone bitter and nasty and cruel, and he almost didn't know who he was before he'd become that person. Surely, that didn't all have to do with Lily's death. Surely he had to take responsibility for his own shortcomings at some point. It had taken someone like Circe to see through his vitriol and venom, to refuse to stand all of the bullying and bad-temperedness. Who was Severus without all of that to shape him? And if he did choose to follow Circe into a realm of life that he was unfamiliar with, how would it treat him?

Circe noticed how introspective Severus had become, and the gulf that again seemed to be opening up in the silence between them.

"I'm glad you came, Severus." she said finally, in a low voice.

"So am I." he replied steadily. A look passed between them as they shared a brief but laden smile in the quiet.

They walked along for a while longer until they reached the bar.

"'Big Hands'? What kind of name for a bar is that?" Severus asked, staring at the unremarkable red sign on the rather dilapidated building.

"I came here once on a friend's stag do. Only meant to stay here for a few drinks to start off the evening. Ended up spending the whole night here."

"What makes it so special?"

"Well are you gonna come in and find out or stay here in the cold, moaning?" She said with a coy smile. An involuntary shiver went through him and Circe folded her arms, wrapping Severus's jacket around her. She smirked and walked inside, taking his warm jacket with her. Severus sighed and followed. As he entered the bar, Severus was hit by the heavy smell of nicotine and stale beer. Something slow, soulful and folky was playing from a jukebox in the corner. Severus could see why Circe liked this place; it looked like it had been plucked straight out of the Deep South. A bar that you only saw in American films about bikers or people who use roundhouse kicks. Lined floor to ceiling with band posters, deep red lighting, a mismatch of old, sagging couches to sit in. It was so un-English. So Americana. It was a fantasy.

Circe pointed to a dusty brown sofa in the window, vacant for them. Severus walked to it to lay claim to it as Circe ordered at the bar, and as he sank into the seat, it gave way under him more than he thought it should. The sofa at Spinner's End had been like this: old, sagging, full of god knows what in terms of human leftovers. He'd thrown it straight in a skip as soon as he could. There were still a few people in the bar at the late hour, but Circe had managed to choose a place that was relatively free of others. She approached with a tray of four glasses and handed one to Severus. As he took a sip, she settled in beside him, finally feeling like she could relax after her busy, emotional rollercoaster of a night.

"God, I hope I gave Tonks clear enough directions to get here. They can't be far behind us."

"It appears that Miss Tonks is rather capable of looking after herself. I had the utmost confidence that she could have fetched her own coat...without Remus's assistance."

Circe laughed. "Yeah. It is rather funny watching people flirt though, isn't it."

Severus felt himself growing red and he took an evasive sip of his drink.

"So…" she breathed, fixing Severus with a look.

"So…" he echoed, trying to pick apart the emotion in the depths of her eyes. Circe raised a brow at him, inviting him to fill the quiet. "I...had to borrow some floo powder from Minerva to get here."

"Was she still preoccupied down by the Lake?" Circe asked, leaping on the chance to keep the conversation going.

"No. I think whatever they were looking for, they didn't find. But it must have been important if the Minister was there."

"The Minister?" Circe shifted uncomfortably. She hoped that her rather rash decision to keep the timeturner hadn't got her friend into trouble with the authorities.

"Mmm, but given the way Minerva was speaking to him, you'd have thought _she_ was the one at the head of the governing body of the wizarding world. Ordering him about as she was…"

Circe sighed, relaxing slightly. "I hear Fudge can be a bit...docile at times."

"Docile, yes. Easily manipulable too, I fear." They both took a sip of their drinks and silence descended over them once more. Severus sensed her disinterest in the topic he'd raised. "But I didn't come here to talk politics." he added.

"Oh? Then what did you come to talk about?" she asked, the hint of a flirt in her voice.

"Well, when I left the castle, I hadn't planned to talk about anything much. I've always let my actions speak for me."

"So, what does all of this action… say?" Circe asked, gesturing to him vaguely.

Severus placed his beer on the table and stared into her open face, her mouth slightly parted in anticipation. She was clearly waiting for him to set the tone, to lead on with what was left unspoken before them. He couldn't help the hungry look he cast down to her full lips, leaning in closer to her with unconscious longing.

"It says… I suppose…" he purred, his rich voice an aphrodisiac to her. "That I cannot deny you anything. Especially when you say 'please'."

Circe's stomach lurched in delight, remembering the wording of the note she'd left in his pocket.

"You make it sound like I forced you, Severus."

"Forced? No, no, no. Compelled? Well, you have compelled me into much that I wouldn't have done and haven't asked for-" Circe scoffed, feeling a little offended. "-But I perhaps _needed_." Snape finished quickly.

"I don't pretend to know what you want or what you need, Severus." Circe mumbled, a touch of frost in her words. She was elated that he was here and he'd chosen to come, but she felt like making him work a little harder to get back in her good books. Severus stared at her as she took a sip of her beer. He could sense that, perhaps for the first time, she felt a little guarded with her emotions around him. He grappled around in his mind for something that would draw her trustfulness back, her fire and energy. She was a wholly different beast to the woman he'd watched earlier that night on stage.

"How do you do it?" He asked suddenly. "Charge at everything you do with such fearlessness and … life?" He was drawn back to the word again. It was just so befitting for her.

"What?" She asked, bemused.

"Despite everything that's happened... And could happen…." For a second his regrets and sadness threatened to consume him whole again and his eyes clouded with far gone memories.

"I'm no guru, Sev. I'm scared of the same things everyone is." Circe laughed.

 _That's the first time Circe's called me "Sev". Lily used to call me that._ He thought, and for the first time, the mention of her and Circe in the same thought did not sting.

"But I remember my Mum said something to me when she was ill. A proper "put it on a T-shirt" moment as you'd say."

"Which is?"

"As long as you have a beating heart, and two hands to heal with, there's nothing in your day that you don't have the strength to tackle."

"A wise woman."

Circe locked eyes with Severus and she nodded.

A storm of words were blowing in her head, but somehow Circe sat there utterly transfixed by his dark eyes, unable to muster a single thing. Once more, he raised a hand and touched his fingers to a curl at her shoulder. The door to the bar swung open and Circe saw the shock of Tonks's pink hair bobbing in the space behind Severus.

"Tonks, you made it!" she said, pulling away from Severus to greet her old friend. Remus followed close behind her, his mouth smeared in dark red lipstick. Circe touched a hand to Severus's leg and squeezed, directing him to look at what she was looking at. After the initial surprise at her touch of his thigh, Severus turned to face the young girl, noting that her own lipstick was smudged all over her face too. Circe smirked and covered her mouth as a giggle seeped out of her.

"Did...er… Did you find your coat?" she asked, her grip on Severus's thigh tightening. Tonks was still jacket-less as she took her seat. Severus looked from Tonks, to Lupin and back to Circe, slowly putting together the pieces.

"Nah, they said that I couldn't have it if I'd lost my ticket stub!" she complained, looking back to Remus to confirm her story. Lupin looked at his hands sheepishly. As if he'd just been caught by his mother with his hands down his trousers.

"Oh…. did you search for it in Remus's mouth?" Circe asked, sardonically. Remus's eyes bulged as he looked up from his hands.

Snape spluttered and covered his smile with a hand. Circe began laughing in earnest as Remus turned bright red.

"Oh, but Circe… Isn't that Professor Snape's jacket?" Tonks asked in retaliation, a wicked grin on her face. She pointed accusationally at the black leather coat Circe still wore on her shoulders.

"Touché, Nymphadora…" Circe muttered, feeling her own cheeks colour and Severus tense up beside her.

"Well, folks. Thanks for coming tonight. Cheers." Circe said, raising her glass. The others all clinked their glasses together and offered their 'well-done's' to her. "Now I propose we all get drunk enough that we forget what happened here…." she pointed at Remus and Tonks. "And you forget what happened here." she looked to Severus.

"Deal." Remus said quickly, slapping his palms on the table. It was the first thing he'd said since he sat down. He jumped up from the couch and strode over to the bar to order another round as they all laughed.

* * *

This time there was no unsettling voice to initiate the dream. The first thing she consciously realised was happening were the many hands of the frightened faces, all clawing at her from within that dilapidated ballroom. She called out for Lily Potter again, but there was no reply. She felt the crushing weight of their many bodies on top of her. She felt their ragged, hot breaths on her skin. She felt the slickness of their tears and their putrid sweat as they smothered her. And through it all she felt the presence of the hooded figure. Looming over her in the frescoed ceiling when she caught a tantalising bit of space and air in the swarming mass of wanted to scream, but every time she felt herself draw in breath, the frightened masses pulled and pushed her from one position to another. They sucked the air from her lungs, filled her mouth with their cloth and flesh. Sickening and stifling.

The robed figure leaned in closer to Circe in a moment of breathless respite. Hovering above her as she stared up at the ceiling, her chest screaming for air. They reached the withered and bony hand out to her, as they had done last time.

" _I know what you want. I know who you want, Circe. I can give them to you."_ the voice called out to her. Beautiful in it's seduction. " _You see those around you who defied me. Forever terrified, forever remembered as their last fearful, frightened selves."_

The crowd of bodies around her moaned, and Circe felt it: all their pain and distress and white-hot panic. She sobbed, wailing into the open air as the emotion pooled in her veins and she felt herself collapse into sorrow.

" _Come to me. Find me…"_ the voice called out to her, seeming now like a safe harbour in the storm. A small comfort in the sea of terror.

"Circe!" a male voice called out to her. It shook her from the all-consuming sorrow. Her name an affirmation of who she was in the haze of nothingness she felt. She looked around at the faces of the crushing crowd around her, away from the hooded figure.

"Help me… please. Lily? Don't let him take me…" Circe called into the air.

"Lily, take her and go! I'll hold him off…" the male voice came again, closer to her this time.

From beneath the shadows of the hood, Circe saw the figure snarl in a vile show of feral anger. Then there was a light, a bright light of love, and someone grabbed her wrist. Through the swirling crowd of bodies stepped another man, with dark black hair and round glasses. Circe gasped at the older, more matured and weathered Harry she saw fighting off the hooded figure. _Not Harry._ She realised. _James._

"Take her and go!" James Potter said again, turning back to them as the hooded figure roared in rage. Circe just had time to glance over to whoever held her wrist, seeing a shock of auburn hair once again, as she was yanked backwards, and backwards, and down and down. Away from the huddle of frightened people, away from the hooded figure, and back into the waking world.

As she started awake, her eyes flew open and Circe was immediately hit by her hangover. "Urghhhhh…" Circe groaned, grabbing her pounding head. Her stomach lurched and she ran from her bed to the bathroom. As she vomited into the toilet, she heard a groan from the conservatory and called out.

"Remus?"

"Oh God, I feel like I transformed last night…"

Circe laughed, but a wave of nausea took her and she was sick again. She gripped the rim of the toilet so hard her knuckles went white. As each moment, kneeling on the bathroom floor passed, her dream slipped further and further into nothing. Until she couldn't quite remember why she felt clammy and claustrophobic.

Circe had made good on her attempt to drink enough to forget the night in Manchester, but she remembered it all with excruciating detail. Drink after drink after drink in Big Hands, and after the final call bell had been rung it had been someone's bright idea to go to Canal Street… Severus ducked out somewhere there, and to Circe's amazement he'd made quite a good attempt at conversation that evening. After the unofficial truce of silence had been established between the four of them, they'd simply resolved to try and be four normal adults talking about normal things. It was heartwarming, and it was almost as if they were ordinary folk without their traumas and tensions and taboos. And when Severus had decided to head home at gone one o clock in the morning, it had been because he'd wanted to, not because of impostor syndrome or a difficult situation of his creation. The tower of blunders that they'd built between them was beginning to burn down. Yet, Circe couldn't recall him saying goodbye. They'd all stumbled out of Big Hands and Tonks was discussing going to a gay bar and Circe had heard a pop behind her. When she'd turned around, Severus had gone. Apparated away.

When her and Remus had stumbled back into Hogwarts that evening, they'd had to walk up to Hogwarts arm in arm, holding one another up. The shadows around the castle all seemed to move and shift and Circe was imagining Irish wolfhounds moving in every bit of darkness. They'd woken up Minerva trying to get through the locked portcullis and sending wispy balls of light into the sky to fend off the curious Dementors. Mcgonagall had found them going in circles as they periodically swapped roles of shouting "fuck off, sad-ghosts!" into the air and fruitlessly casting "Alohomora" on the lock. They were both so sozzled that it didn't occur to either of them to tell the other that the spell didn't work and try something different… Mcgonagall had given them both a clip round the ear at finding them in their rat-arsed, useless state, and for forcing her out of her bed in her dressing gown. As they'd reached Circe's rooms, Minerva had slammed her door shut and gone back to sleep. Remus had been barely conscious at that point and Circe reluctantly had taken him inside and laid him out on the sofa in the conservatory, with a blanket and a bucket placed near his head. Remus had been going rather hard that night, partly out of embarrassment after his snogging session with Tonks had been discovered. Circe had felt pretty far-gone, Remus must have been legless.

She'd collapsed into her own bed somewhere around four in the morning. The last thing she remembered before passing out was the dizzying sensation of feeling like the whole room was spinning around her. And now all she was left with was a cracker of a hangover and a memory of a remarkable night, extra-ordinary in its ordinary-ness.

"Fucking hell…" she muttered as she rose slowly from the bathroom floor. She walked out into the conservatory, very _very_ slowly. Remus was lying prostrate on the sofa, still fully dressed, in a pose that reminded Circe of several dramatic Renaissance paintings she'd seen.

"Circe… just put me down…" he grumbled. The bucket next to him was full of God knows what. "Put me out of my misery."

"I suddenly remembered why drinking in wizard pubs is better."Circe grumbled back, rubbing her temples. "No hangovers with butterbeer or firewhiskey."

"D'you think Pomfrey has something in her storage cupboard?" Remus asked.

"Hangover cures for kids?! Not likely. I have a feeling Minerva will have told her not to give us a single bean either…"

"Ugh!" Remus clutched at his head and groaned.

Circe shuffled back into her room and sat down back at Remus's side a few moments later.

"Here." she said, placing a glass of water and a strange foily lumped strip of plastic next to it.

"What is that?" Remus asked unsurely.

"Muggle cure for a muggle problem. Paracetamol."

"Parecetamol?"

"Painkillers. Take two and swallow it down with water."

Remus fumbled with the foil and managed to sit up just enough to swallow them down. Circe did the same a few minutes later and the two of them lay in the quiet and the comfort of the plant-filled conservatory, slipping back into a snooze together as they waited for the drugs to kick in. Circe pulled herself out of her daze, and nudged at Remus's legs lying over her lap. Her headache was mostly gone but her stomach still wriggled uncomfortably.

"Come on…" she said dozily. "Let's get something horribly greasy and carb-loaded in us." Remus grumbled again as he was roused from sleepiness. He sat up slowly and swung his legs onto the floor. He took a sniff and grimaced.

"Oh God, it stinks." he said, looking at the bucket. Circe couldn't smell much, and she put Remus's heightened smell down to the closeness of the full moon. They both stood up, clinging on to each other in much the same way as they had the night before. "Do I look as rough as you?" Remus asked, looking at Circe with a sickly smile.

"Oh cheers mate." Circe shot back. She had managed to pull on her pyjamas before getting into bed, but her hair was a tangled mess and her mascara was smudged under her eyes. At least Remus still looked fairly like himself, still in his clothes and a little battered and bruised as he often did after a transformation. Remus stole away to her bathroom for one last vomiting session whilst Circe hastily got dressed. A few moments later, they both emerged into the grounds of Hogwarts looking a little worse for wear.

They walked at a slow pace down into Hogsmeade. There was a light smattering of snow still here and there as it had been a particularly cold March. The light of the morning was burning away at their eyes and they mostly communicated in grunts and groans to one another. They lined out the night, from the moment they'd all converged in Big Hands together and went through every round and every change of scenery trying to pick apart where it all went wonderfully wrong.

"Those bloody jaegerbombs." they both said in unison as they walked the Hogsmeade streets.

"Ugh, Tonks is a machine. I think she put away five of them!"

"Wonder how she is this morning." Remus said with a wistful look. Circe didn't reply, letting a coy smile creep across her face as she remembered the pre-Big Hands part of the night. Remus caught her look and turned red under her gaze. "Don't Circe…I thought we agreed..."

"I didn't say anything!" she said defensively. "Well done for pulling though, you sexy beast." she said teasingly.

"Oh God, she must be about… what? Thirteen years younger than me?"

"So who kissed who?" Circe asked, a twinkle in her eyes.

"No." Remus answered her shortly.

"What? Here's me thinking you've been waiting for Sirius Black to present himself at just the right time, and then BOOM you're all over Tonks's face."

"Stop it, Circe!"

"I mean that's gonna be an awkward conversation when you _do_ finally run into Black. I just assumed you weren't into girls after what you said at my party about a certain Irish wolfhound. But hey, that's me making an arse of myself for not asking…"

"I suppose I've always just been attracted to a person rather than their… bits." Remus said, lulled into engaging with Circe.

"I knew there was another reason why we both got on." Circe said with a joking wink at Lupin.

Remus frowned. "You too?" He asked, stopping dead in the middle of the road.

"Yeah. I've always liked girls _and_ boys. As far back as I can remember, it just… didn't matter to me what was in their knickers."

"Huh…" Remus said nodding slowly. He scoffed and kicked at the snow beneath him. "Well, that's that. I wondered why your scent reminded me a little of Sirius." He mused.

"Scent? You've never mentioned this."

"It's a part of my… condition." Remus said as they reached the Three Broomsticks. "Especially towards the full moon, I can smell things quite astutely. Everyone has their own unique smell and I can sometimes smell who's magic and who's not. It's like… cinnamon in the air." He waved up at the sky, now smattered with a few wet snowflakes falling to the earth.

They moved to a table by the window and slumped down in their seats.

"So what do I smell like?" She asked curiously.

"Well there's the underlying cinnamon, of course. A little of, well, something earthy like moss or soil… and something with lightness and joy. Peony perhaps."

"Sirius Black, the mass murderer, also smelt of peonies?" Circe asked cynically.

"Yes… well no. It's hard to explain…"

"You sure it's not just my perfume, rather than you being able to smell my bisexual panic?" She asked brashly.

"Yes, I'm sure! I've lived with this my whole life, Circe!" Remus replied with a raised voice. Her face dropped and they both sat back in their seats silently. Rosmurta shuffled over to them and asked cautiously what they wanted.

"Two full-English breakfasts, please." Said Remus without looking at Circe. The barmaid nodded and walked away.

After a second longer Circe cleared her throat and said quietly "I'm sorry, Remus. I didn't mean to make light of your condition."

Remus sighed and looked at her with his kind eyes. "Well I suppose it's like that old phrase, isn't it: if you can no longer cry about it, then laugh."

"Indeed. But better if you laugh at yourself rather than let others laugh at you."

"You weren't laughing at me."

"I sort of was. I'm a bit of a cock." Circe said, staring at her hands bashfully.

"Oh stop it. There's only room for one remorseful, self-punishing twat out of the two of us."

Circe laughed and all was right between them again.

When their breakfasts arrived they wolfed them down gratefully. Slowly Circe began to feel halfway normal and she polished off the remainder of her bacon and casually helped herself to Remus's discarded black pudding.

"How do you think Severus is feeling this morning?" Remus asked as he put down his fork.

"Oh God, Severus!" Circe said, only just realising that he too must have been feeling the worse for wear. She thought of him in his bed, curled up with a banging headache like her and Remus had been and for some reason, she thought of him sleeping without a shirt... _Severus isn't a pyjama man, surely… I bet he sleeps in the nude._ Her stomach lurched in the pleasantly uncomfortable way that she was used to by now. She squirmed in her seat, dwelling on the image in her mind's eye that she'd conjured.

"How the hell did you manage to get him to come along?" Remus asked with a coy smile.

"I…. uh… I said "please"." She replied enigmatically. A huge smile on her face.

"Anything happen with him last night that I should know about?"

"If it did, Remus, do you think I would have ended up putting _you_ to bed at the end of the night?"

"Ha!"

As they lingered by the bar, paying up their bill, Circe asked Rosmurta if she could make up another bacon buttie to take home. They waited patiently for Rosmurta to finish making it up, when the door swung open and Circe spied another shock of red hair standing in the threshold.

"Oh for goodness sake. Fred, George, I told you…" but she stopped as she realised it wasn't the twins. It was Ron, and Hermione beside him.

"Oh, sorry guys I…" but Circe stopped again as she saw, in the falling snow outside, a strange shape in the space behind Ron and Hermione. A thick nothingness. She would have looked straight past it had it not been for the snowflakes that seemed to have settled on something mid-air…

"Remus." Circe tapped him on the arm, and he turned to face the kids too. They closed the door with a quick bang and hurried off sheepishly. "Remus, did you see that?"

"See what?"

"Do you have the map on you?"

"Uhh, yes. Why?" He said, reaching into his pocket.

She had produced her own wand in the flash of an eye and snatched it from Remus. "I solemnly swear that I am… doing wrong?"

Remus snatched it back with a huff. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

They both watched the map of Hogwarts and the surrounding grounds bleed onto the pages and Circe thumbed through the different locations looking for Hogsmeade.

"What are you looking for?" Remus asked.

"Hermione and Ron. They're up to something. I saw… something. I'm not sure. Wait, there!" Circe poked her finger into the paper sharply and saw the two students hovering names, running down the Main Street. A third name hovered beside them.

"Harry? But how? He… he wasn't there!"

Remus laughed aloud, startling Circe somewhat. "I think I can take a guess!" He chortled. "Oh James, you fiend! I wondered where it had disappeared to."

Something stirred in Circe at the mention of James Potter. Like a very distant memory. But she was distracted from her musings as she saw another name on the Marauder's Map emerge. Hidden until that moment as it was almost completely covered by Ron's.

"Wait… who's that?" She asked, peering at the name. Remus leaned in close, trying also to read the name obscured by Ron. "Is it… P- Pet.? Peter?"

"Peter Pettigrew…." Remus breathed.

"Wait… but he's dead." Circe asked. "That can't be right. The map must be broken."

"It's not broken. It's never broken. I thought I saw his name the other day..."

Remus took back the map and walked purposefully out of the door.

"Here's your bacon buttie, love." Rosmurta said to Circe.

"Remus…! Remus! Don't storm off again!" Circe called after him. The door slammed in her face. She made to follow him, but Rosmurta hollered at her, waving the bacon buttie she had just made at Circe.

"Oh, sorry…" Circe said hurriedly, digging in her pockets for a few knuts. She pulled out a fistful of muggle ten pence pieces and swore. Leftover change from last night. "Uhh…"

"Oh for goodness sake, I'll put it on your tab." Rosmurta said, pressing it into her hand.

"Cheers, Roz." Circe said exasperatedly as she stuffed it into her pocket.

Circe ran from the Three Broomsticks and a horrible feeling of déjà vu hit her as she stared about the empty street for Remus.

"No no no no… not again!" She shouted aloud to the snow-covered village. "Remus!" She screamed into the empty air, and when no one replied she kicked at a swinging sign outside the pub. But Circe's eyes widened and she froze in position as a hard metal object pressed against her ribs. It had sat in her inside pocket, forgotten until this moment. But now it made its presence known, as if it called out to her for usage. She straightened her back slowly and delved a hand inside her coat. Her fingers curled around the gold chain and she drew it out into the open air, staring at the hourglass at its center.

 _I could. I could use it…_ she thought. _Go back just a few minutes and hide in the opposite alley._ She cast a covetous glance to the street around her and huddled the timeturner close. She stole away to the back of the Three Broomsticks, away from prying eyes and ticked mentally over her plan. She tried to remember how she had twisted and turned the mechanisms last time, but found that she had done it without conscious thought as she'd been absent-mindedly toying with it by the shores of the lake. Perhaps if she looked at it closely, there'd be some instructions. Circe held it in front of her face and considered deeply the decision she was going to make. Was it worth it? All the danger and close calls she remembered from her last trip to the past came back to her and she hesitated. But then she thought of Remus, out there somewhere looking for Peter Pettigrew, the eponymous dead man. Or to Harry, somehow there and not there, which Remus seemed strangely unphased by.

 _Or perhaps he's meeting with Black!_ Her head reeled with possible scenarios and situations. She placed the timeturner around her neck and held up the medallion.

 _God, I hope it was this way round last time. And how much did I turn it?_ She fumbled with the device and her excited, clumsy fingers fiddled away with the mechanisms. Just before she felt time halt and spool and warp, she had time to register her thought:

_Shit. That's too much… You always do either too much or too little._

And away she went… four days into the future.


	28. "Where are you? And I'm so sorry."

Circe had to close her eyes as she felt way too much time pass by around her. Day and night came and went and there was little she could do as she watched the rapid movement of people in the street as the sun came up and went down. The small piles of snow melted away, rain came and went, the streetlights flickered on and off like twinkling fairy lights. She saw a group of Professors and other people she didn’t recognise moving about the alley in which she stood, searching and chatting together in huddled groups with deeply hunched shoulders. They were moving too quickly for Circe to keep up, but she saw a smudge of green and purple here and there; Minerva and Dumbledore must have been among them as well as the bobbing bowler hat of Fudge and a thick blackness that could only have been Severus... Their noise was at the same time a deafening roar and as futile and fleeting as a whisper. They passed around her and through her like ghosts and Circe was powerless to stop it. No,  _ she _ was the ghost. Standing in her own grave watching the ones she loved looking helplessly for something. She realised with growing alarm that they were searching...for her. 

When she finally came to a stop she had counted the sunrise and sunset four times, and for her it had whizzed by in a matter of moments. The gathered crowds that had pooled into the back alley in which she stood had dissipated long ago and it was quiet once more. It was dark, early evening and Circe felt the stillness of the village around her. But it suddenly felt like she had stepped off a merry-go-round and a wave of dizziness hit her. No one was meant to travel that much forwards or backwards in time... Dawning awareness hit her of just how far forwards she had gone, and this awful realisation combined with her nauseous spell had her retching into the bins in the back alley. 

“Oh my god… oh my god…” she repeated over and over again as a panic attack gripped her. Her stomach wanted to be rid of everything in it: it was four days old after all. And she heaved and heaved until she was left shaking and sore. When it was over, she began to sob, and she slowly sank to her knees, tugging at her hair. 

_ They must think I’m dead. Or missing. They were looking for me. Severus and Minerva, they were searching for me here. You fucking stupid, cack-handed meddler! Why didn’t you just leave the damn thing alone?!  _ She retched again into the gutter and she began to cry. She heard the clatter of the bins further down the alley and gasped as she sensed movement. 

Then, there was a hand over her mouth. She screamed but her noise was smothered. Whoever it was, he stank and she retched anew as she felt their body press against her. 

“Where the _ fuck  _ did you come from? _ ”  _ they hissed into her ear. A man’s voice. He had a beard that scratched against her neck skin. His other hand held her arm behind her back. “One second this alley was empty, then you show up out of thin air!” 

Circe mumbled, and he let his hand slip from her mouth a touch. “Please… don’t hurt me.” she whispered. “Sirius.” 

She felt Black flinch at the mention of his name. He wheeled her round by the shoulders and pinned her against the wall with all his strength. She whimpered as his forearm pressed against her collarbone harshly. In the dim light of the alley she could see him now. His hair was a tangle of deepest, dark black, all the way down to his waist. The dark tendrils hiding a similarly filthy face, almost corpse-like in its gauntness. But through his withered, sharp and hollow cheeked countenance, his eyes were mad and wild. His teeth a yellowing snarl. He smelt of dog. 

“You!” he said hoarsely. His vicious snarl turned into an unsettlingly manic smile as he watched Circe’s frightened face imploringly gazing at him. “Hello, “honey”.” he laughed, deep and guttural. Circe remembered that’s what she had called him, through the bars of the portcullis and she felt herself blush. “You’re the one they’ve been searching for. Prowling every street and back alley round here, forcing me to hide in the shadows, away from them. I haven’t fucking eaten for three days because of you!” 

“I’m… I’m sorry.” she stuttered breathlessly. 

“Remus is fucking beside himself with worry…” 

“Remus? You’ve met with Remus?” she asked. Sirius responded by pressing his arm harder into her collarbone and she yelped in pain. 

“The last time I saw him, he was trying to find Peter Pettigrew!” She said desperately. This was all happening so fast. It had been moments ago she had been sitting with Lupin in the pub, finishing their hangover breakfasts. Now, she was a dead woman walking. Trapped in an alley with a madman. Four days forever lost to her, as she was too scared to ever entertain the idea of using the timeturner again. If she tried to go back, how far into the past would her ignorant fingers take her? A week? A month? A year? 

Sirius’s look softened and he lifted his hold on her. Circe took a deep breath as Black backed away from the wall, a deeply troubled look on his face. 

“What did Remus tell you?... Of Peter I mean.” Sirius asked, his body shaking in his filthy rags. 

“Tha-That he was your friend. That he was dead… that he saw him on the Map, but the map lied I guess.” Circe replied, rubbing her neck. 

“The Map? He showed you the map!? Why did he trust _ you  _ with it?” He spat. 

“Excuse me?” Circe asked indignantly. “Remus is my friend. I know all about you and him,  _ Padfoot _ .” 

Sirius flinched as the noise of someone walking in the street, beyond the shadows of the alley, startled him. Circe gasped and she moved towards the conversing wizards, eager to tell someone she wasn’t missing, she wasn’t dead. Black grabbed her wrist and yanked her back into the alley with a surprising show of force for his painfully skinny body. He covered her mouth again as she cried out.

“Pettigrew isn’t dead!” he hissed. She could feel his fear, his base desire to just survive driving him onward. “If Remus trusts you, then listen to me!...Pettigrew is alive. The map never lies.” he echoed the exact words Lupin had used. 

“Well that would be awfully convenient for you, wouldn’t it.” Circe said cynically, whispering though his fingers. 

“I am an innocent man!  _ He  _ was the one who betrayed Lily and James to the Dark Lord, not I. I would never. I would rather have died than betrayed them!” 

Circe sighed, casting a cautious look out into the Hogsmeade streets. People were hurrying home under the rapidly advancing twilight dusk. She looked back to her companion in the dark alley. Could he be right? If so, Black had borne the weight of twelve years in Azkaban falsely. Were Remus’s doubts about Black’s guilt founded after all?

_ No wonder Remus flew to him when he thought he started spotting Pettigrew’s name.  _ Circe thought.  __ It was his vindication. His love and trust for Sirius finally reaping rewards despite the world’s assistance that he was mad for holding it within him still _.  _

“Please, Circe…” Sirius pleaded. “I know you’re a kind soul. You swerved to avoid me on the road and fed me food when you thought I was no better than a stray… Can you not show the same kindness to a man? Trust me? A human being protesting their innocence? You know what being around a Dementor is like. Now imagine it, day after day, year after miserable year... Surely you wouldn’t wish that upon any soul?” 

Black let her go and the hardened criminal faded away before her, until standing in front of her was nothing more than a scared, emaciated, frightened man. 

She raised a finger at him, pointing harshly into his face. “You…” she started.  _ You are a murderer. A criminal. Sentenced in a court of law. I can’t trust a word you say!  _ All this she had been about to say, but she couldn’t. Black could have killed her then and there in the alley. Yet he hadn’t. They stared at one another, Sirius’s dark eyes still sparkling mischievously in his pallid, grey face. And in those eyes, in that moment, Circe saw why Remus loved him. 

“...You owe me a new car.” She finished weakly. 

Black smiled a wicked smile at her and winked roguishly. 

“If I can prove my innocence after tonight, I shall owe you much more than that.” 

He moved to leave, but Circe grabbed him swiftly by the tattered remains of his shirt. 

“No! Wait! Where is Pettigrew then? If I’m aiding and abetting an Azkaban escapee, I need to know you’re telling the truth!” 

“I meet with Remus tonight.” Sirius replied, gazing out cautiously into the Hogsmeade streets. “Together we will find Pettigrew… and kill him.” 

“What?!” Circe asked wide eyed. “You want me to believe that you’re innocent of the crime of murdering Pettigrew, and in the same breath tell me you plan to kill him anyway?! Does Remus know of your plan?” 

“Remus lost just as much as me that night!” he snarled, stepping so close to her face he stopped mere inches from it. His anger was palpable. He burned with the thought of revenge. Circe knew she wasn’t the one to talk Black down from this ledge. 

“Where is Remus?” she asked, thinking that the person who might be able to talk sense into Black was Lupin. “Where are you meeting him?” 

“Where he transforms.” He turned from her. 

“But where’s that?!” she called after him. 

“He didn’t tell you?” Sirius scoffed to himself and smiled. “I guess he didn’t want a repeat of the “Snivellus incident”.” he laughed, craning his head up into the darkening sky. 

_ Oh God, Severus… _ Circe thought, his name sending an electric shock through her very soul. The bacon buttie in her pocket seemed to grow heavier. The buttie that she’d had made up for him.  _ He thinks I’m missing too. Good lord, he must be absolutely manic.  _

“Where, Black?” she demanded again.

“Through the Whomping Willow!” he shouted back at her. “And on to the Shrieking Shack.” And in front of her eyes, before she could ask any more questions, she watched as Black twisted and morphed and shrank down. In the blink of an eye he was a dog, panting up at her with those same deep, mischievous eyes. Then he was gone, bounding off into the streets without a backwards glance. 

* * *

Circe kept to the shadows, not willing to cause a stir that her otherwise inexplicable reappearance would cause if she were to be seen. It was hard. Even as most people were now in their homes now darkness had fallen. She was watchful of a curtainless window or a door swinging open at the wrong time. But somehow she managed to steal her way out of Hogsmeade. 

As soon as she’d put the last cottage behind her, she ran headlong up the path to the castle, and on towards the Shrieking Shack. She ran up the hill, feeling the slickness of the grass beneath her foot, and she turned around to peer down into the village. It was so hard to believe that this was several days after she had ambled down into it by Remus’s side. 

_ God, what a monumental fuck-up of a hangover.  _ She thought to herself. She wheeled around to run the rest of the way to the Shrieking Shack.  _ Sod the Whomping Willow, I’m not going anywhere near that thing. I’ll just enter it here.  _ But as she turned around, she ran headlong into the thick barreled chest of a Giant. 

“Oof!” the wall of flesh said. 

The breath was knocked out of her as she was sent sprawling to the floor. A spinning glass lantern swung in the darkness above her head. 

“Circe...?” the lantern swung on its handle and she felt so dizzy she thought that time must have been moving in the wrong direction again. “Circe!” the voice boomed. They leaned forward into the lantern light and Hagrid’s face was illuminated in the darkness. “Where the bloody ‘ell ‘ave you been, you devil!?” Hagrid said, on the edge of tears. He scooped her up as he began to blubber uncontrollably, taking her into a bear-crushing hug. 

“Where the bloody ‘ell ‘ave you been…” he repeated, his shoulders convulsing in massive sobs of relief. 

“Hagrid…” Circe wheezed with the small breath left in her. The half-Giant set her down and wiped his face with a huge red hankie. 

“D’you realise the whole bloody castle and half the bleedin Ministry’s been lookin’ for you!” He said, pausing to blow his nose. “You’ve been gone fer four bloody days. We thought summit terrible had happened to ye… That Black had got ye, or summit...” his bottom lip began to tremble again and Circe was genuinely touched by his concern. She took him into a gentler, comforting hug again and he patted her warmly on the back. 

“It’s complicated. So complicated, Hagrid.” She muttered into his chest. 

“God, I don’t care ‘ow it’s ‘appened, but this day’s gone an’ delivered another bleedin miracle!” 

He drew her back to look at her again, not quite able to believe that she was here. He shook her shoulders in delight, smiling from ear to ear. 

“Oh, the others up at t’castle will be over the moon!” he grabbed her by the wrist again and Circe flinched at the old bruises Black had inflicted there only moments ago. “Come on!” 

”No, Hagrid… Wait!” 

Hagrid yanked her down the path with a forceful but earnest tug. Circe groaned as she cast a longing eye to the outer facade of the Shrieking Shack. Her plan now totally in tatters. 

_ Shit shit shit shit… What do I do now?  _ She thought of Black and Remus, possibly in there already, a mere stone’s throw away. But Hagrid was so happy to see her, and if he told anyone that she was back then the whole evening would be shot and she’d be spending it in Dumbledore’s office explaining herself. 

On the walk up to the castle, Hagrid regaled her with the story of Buckbeak’s mysterious disappearance, right from under the executioner’s axe it seemed. He hadn’t let go of her hand the whole walk up. Circe barely had time to register what he was saying. All she could think of was how to escape from the Giant’s literal clutches without garnering any suspicion. The Whomping Willow was all the way over on the other side of the castle, but that’d be her best option for finding Remus and Sirius now. 

“You shoulda seen the look on Malfoy’s bloody face! Ha! I’d ‘ave paid to ‘ave that look photographed, keep in on me mantlepiece forever!” 

“Wow, that sounds amazing…” 

“I suspect Dumbledore ‘ad somethin’ to do with it. But o’course he couldn’t publicly say t’me what he’d done.” 

“No, no. Of course.” 

“But still, ‘ad to make a show of pretendin’ to search the grounds and go lookin’ for ‘im. And that’s where I ran into you! Gah, you go out lookin’ for one dissappearee and you find another, eh?!” Hagrid gave her a hearty thump on the shoulder that almost had her on the floor again. She smiled demurely as he continued pulling her past his hut. The castle was in full view now and Circe’s heart dropped. She had to think of something fast.

“Hagrid… Hagrid!” she said suddenly, pulling back and forcing him to come to a standstill. 

“What is it?” he asked, turning around and seeing her worried expression. 

“It’s just… before we go back to the castle…” she grappled in her head for any excuse that might buy her time. “Can… can I have a cup of tea?” 

The giant blinked in confusion. “What?” 

“The last few days have been so…. traumatic.” she feigned a little quiver of her lip and forced her eyes to squeeze out a few tears. “And with all that happened with Black. The attack…” 

“So that rogue did get ye!” he grumbled, his face lined with sympathy. Circe knew that she’d grabbed his attention and she leaned into her act. 

“Can I… just have a minute to compose myself before I have to….” she acted the emotion rising up in her voice and was rather pleased with herself when she managed to make a tear roll down her cheek. “...before I have to recount the whole horrible thing again?” 

“Of course! Silly me… come in and I’ll make ye up a brew.” 

The giant led her by the arm into his modest hut. Circe wiped her face with her sleeve and settled down into one of his armchairs. Hagrid busied himself with the kettle and the mugs whilst Circe thought desperately about what her next move was. She rested her arm against the shelf of the armchair Hagrid had deposited her in and she tutted as she accidentally pushed off a book that the giant had been reading and placed there face down for safekeeping. 

_ Scottish Folk-Tales for Children.  _ She thought as she read the book’s cover. Opening up the page, she saw what Hagrid had been reading before his search for Buckbeak had begun.  _ Brigadoon: the disappearing village that time cannot hold on to. The highland settlement only materialises once every hundred years before vanishing again under the waning moon and the rising sun.  _ She sighed and placed it back on the armchair. 

There came a sudden and pained noise from outside the hut as Circe and Hagrid both snapped their heads towards the Giant’s broken window. It sounded like a exclaim of surprise. From an animal? No, it sounded too well formed. 

“Wot the ‘ell was that…?” Hagrid asked in bemusement. He walked over to his window and peered cautiously through the broken pane. When he could see nothing out of the ordinary in the rapidly descending gloom, he sighed and went back to the kettle. 

“Someone smash your window, Hagrid?” Circe asked, equally as confused. 

“Yeah, ‘appened just before Buckbeak escaped. No clue who dunnit. D’ye want somethin’ sweet? That’s good for settlin’ nerves ent it? I think I ‘ave some battenberg around ‘ere somewhere.” 

“That would be great, Hagrid. Thanks…”. 

The giant smiled kindly at her as he handed over a steaming mug of tea to her. He went back to rifling through his cupboards as Circe stood up and strode over to the window. Her head was racing with ideas. And all were falling short when she saw them through in her head. Her eyes settled on a smashed pain of glass, scattered across the windowsill and she found herself wondering when kids had thrown stones at Hagrid’s windows? It was a wonderful patchwork of stained glass, taken from old Hogwarts windows over the years. The shard on the windowsill was a brilliant peacock blue and Circe thought of how much the colour reminded her of the robes Gilderoy used to wear. She shook her head as she grumbled quietly, frustrated that her mind had wandered from the task at hand. 

_ Fuck sake! Think… Think!  _ Then she got an idea as her mind lingered on thoughts of Gilderoy.  _ A memory charm…Could I? Cast a forgetting charm on my friend? _ The thought tugged at her, the idea of doing something like that to a friend that had wept when he discovered she was alive and well. It was horrible, deplorable… but what other option was there? 

Circe curled her fingers around the wand in her pocket and slowly turned to Hagrid. His back was facing her as he looked diligently in his cupboards for a sweet treat for Circe. 

_ I’m sorry, my friend. I wouldn’t do this if the situation weren’t desperate. I’ll just take fifteen minutes or so. Just enough so you forget that you saw me.  _

Hagrid turned around suddenly and Circe hid her wand frantically behind her back. “I ‘ave a few scones ‘ere and there, or I think there’s a fruitcake leftover from Christmas time somewhere at the back of these cupboards.” 

“Oh, fruitcake would be marvellous…” she said hurriedly. The giant turned back to his rifling and Circe fidgeted the wand at her back, having lost her nerve for the charm she was about to perform. She scrunched up her face and looked to the roof with a pained expression. 

_ I can’t… I can’t… What if he turns around again and sees me. I couldn’t stand to see the look in his eyes if he- _

But her thoughts were halted as a smash of glass ricocheted around the tiny cabin. Circe shouted out loud and jumped as a stone wrapped in something papery came jutting to a stop by her feet. 

“It’s ‘appenin again!” Hagrid shouted, striding over to the window once more. “Where are you, ye devil!” he roared into the space outside. “I ain’t leavin’ this window until ye show yerself!” 

Circe gathered herself and summoned up the last little bit of courage she had. Whatever had happened with the mysterious stone thrower, it presented her with the opportunity she needed. Hagrid was distracted, his back to her…. 

“Confundus…” she whispered. And as the spell hit him, the giant stopped what he was doing and stood up straight. He looked vacantly about the room and Circe led him into the armchair by the fire. 

“There you go, sit down.” she cooed to him. He did as she said compliantly and looked into the fire’s flames with a vacant stare. Her foot kicked the stone that had come through Hagrid’s window only a moment ago. She noticed that it was indeed wrapped in paper, and a word on the crumped outer wrapping of the stone caught her eye.  _ “Brigadoon…” _

_ Wait, no… it can’t be… _ Circe bent to the floor and picked up the stone, peeling off the page as she read it in the dim light of the hut.  _ “Brigadoon: the disappearing village that time cannot hold on to. The highland settlement only materialises once every hundred years before vanishing again under the waning moon and the rising sun.”  _

_ That… that can’t be!  _ She leaned over the befuddled giant to the book that still sat face down on his armchair and held up before her the exact same page that she had read in the children’s book. Something fishy was up. Surely there was a reason why this little tale about an appearing and reappearing village had come flying at her through Hagrid’s window, the very thing that had given her a distraction… 

_ Appearing and reappearing. Just like I did…  _

“Hello?” she called out into the gloom. This all felt very familiar. Like it was a message. No noise came back and Circe hastily tore the page from Hagrid’s children’s book, holding it side by side with the piece of paper that had been wrapped around the stone. They were identical. An unnatural feeling settled over her and almost without conscious thought, she found herself throwing the crumpled page into Hagrid’s fire and the page she’d freshly torn out the book into her pocket. 

Circe shook herself from the odd feeling and moved to stand at Hagrid’s back. She pointed her wand again at his head. 

“Obliviate.” she said, hoping that she’d not taken too much of his mind. After the giant was lulled to sleep by her spell, she stole away outside and waited under the window, listening out for any stirrings of life from Hagrid. After a while she heard the rustle of movement as he stood up, great thunderous steps moving about the hut’s interior. 

“Buckbeak…” she heard him mutter. “Where ‘ave you run off to, Buckbeak?” 

Circe sighed, satisfied that she’d erased just enough that he remembered the hippogriff’s escape, but none of her. A few seconds later, the giant strode from his hut, carrying the lantern that he’d found her with in his hands, off to search the forests for his pet. 

When Circe was sure the giant was long gone, she took a deep breath, pushing away the horrible feeling in her stomach over what she’d just done, and she ran as fast as she could to the Whomping Willow. As she crested the hill near the site of the violent tree, she heard a voice on the breeze and a flash of light. Being still some sixty or seventy yards from the tree, she could not see clearly who it was, but she saw the tree come to a shuddering halt and the lone figure pass unmolested under its boughs. She ran closer, as fast as she could, but the figure did not become clearer as she grew nearer, it became darker…  _ Severus!  _

She was about to call out to him as he disappeared under a particularly large and knawed root. Gone. Out of sight. Circe gasped, realising that that must be where the path to the Shrieking Shack was. 

“Severus!” She called out, but her cry was muffled by a great creak in the boughs of the tree as it began to shake back to life again. 

She ran for dear life, trying to follow Severus into the boughs of the tree. The branches and roots creaked and moaned as the Willow tree flexed its muscles. She didn’t have time to look up, just run… Hoping for dear life that she could make it on time. She could see the tunnel, hidden under the tree’s roots where Severus had disappeared through and she laughed aloud. She felt like she would make it. Then, her feet were swept from under her by a wriggling root and pain bloomed out from her right ankle. She landed with a wrenching thud in the grass, face down. She cried out, clutching at her ankle and turned over onto her back just in time to see a huge branch descending on top of her. 

She screamed, covering her face with her hands. 

But the branch came to a sudden halt as it collided with a barrier of magic. She panted and cried out disbelievingly as a shield protected her from the barrage of branches raining down on her. 

“Immobilus!” She screamed, pointing her own wand directly into the Willow’s trunk. After a few jittering seconds, the tree sat motionless once more. 

“Who’s there?!” she screamed out into the wilderness. Somebody had saved her from being crushed to death by the tree. Someone had cast a protective charm. The suspicion she had held before from the stone and the identical pages now came into clear focus. It was too similar to before, those weird occurrences up in the clock tower that only made sense once she went back in time… 

_ Is it… me again? More time travel?  _

Circe picked herself up and tested her ankle experimentally. She sucked in her breath sharply as a lightning bolt of pain shot up her calf. 

_ Shit.  _

“Umm… than you…!” she shouted out presumably to herself, feeling like she was speaking to the wind itself. Nevertheless, she hobbled on as quickly as she could out of the danger zone of the Whomping Willow’s branches, down into the tunnel after Severus. 

The tunnel was dark and cold, but she pressed on until she could hear raised, angry voices in the distance. Eventually light came back to her eyes and she found herself limping into the dilapidated remains of the Shrieking Shack. 

“Remus?” She called out unsurely. “Sirius?” 

She heard the voices halt the conversation. She limped onwards until she emerged into the room where she assumed everyone was, and she saw first Remus and Sirius, their attentions pointed at somebody just behind the door swinging on its hinges. Then she saw Harry, Ron and Hermione, huddled into a corner, Ron clutching his dear pet rat. “You three again?!” she exclaimed, barely surprised that they were here too. She increasingly realised that she had walked into something of a stand-off ...

“Circe…?” a weak voice called out to her from behind the door. The sound of it made her heart tear in two. It was full of pain and reluctant hope. As rich as chocolate and deep as thunder. From behind the door emerged the sallow and aggrieved face of Severus. She gasped. He looked manic, and hollow, like he hadn’t slept for..  _ Well, for about four days,  _ Circe guessed. His jaw hung open and she saw his eyes fill with tears as he beheld her. His pained, bewildered look sent her own eyes watering. “What kind of cruel trick is this?!” he roared, turning back to Lupin and Black. 

“Severus, it’s me. I’m safe. I’m alright.” Circe limped forward, grabbing on to his sleeve. He turned back to her with the expression of one who has seen a phantom. All he could do in that moment was keep himself from collapsing into uncontrollable sobs at her feet. 

“Expelliarmus!” came a sudden shout and Severus’s wand went flying from his hand as he himself catapulted into the opposite wall. When he fell to the floor, he was out cold. Circe looked around the room wide-eyed for whoever had done it, and she found Potter pointing his wand in the general direction of where Severus now lay in a clump on the floor. He’d seized on the moment and had taken advantage of the distraction Circe had caused to Snape’s attention.

“Bloody hell, Potter! Was that really called for?!” Circe shouted, her emotions finally catching up to her as she descended into rapid-breathed sobs. 

“I’m afraid it may have been, Circe. Remus called out to her. Professor Snape was threatening to summon the authorities and have Sirius carted back to Azkaban.” Circe hobbled forwards into the room and Remus took her into a tight embrace. “Oh my friend, it’s good to see you safe…” he muttered, the hint of rising emotion in his voice. 

“Oh come on, Remus. Lets get on with it!” Sirius shouted, almost pulling the two of them apart.”Let’s kill him!” 

“No!” Hermione roared from her corner. 

“Sirius, you promised me that he’d be here. Where is Pettigrew?” Circe asked, fixing him with a sharp glare. 

Before he could answer her, Severus muttered and groaned. From beneath the crumple of black robes on the floor, she heard him stirring. 

“Oh Circe, see to Severus whilst me and Sirius deal with  _ him _ .” Remus said quickly. “Make sure he doesn’t wake up for a while.” She didn’t question Lupin’s instructions and she hobbled over to Snape, kneeling down at his side. Circe watched as Sirius wrestled the rat from out of Ron’s hands, all while the red-haired boy screamed in protest.  _ What the hell is going on?  _ She wondered as Snape looked up at her with a bleary, disorientated expression. 

“Stop it.. stop it… It hurts too much…” he muttered, almost in tears. “Don’t pretend to be her. It hurts too much.” 

“Severus, it’s not an illusion. I’m here.” She whispered. “I’m safe.” She repeated again. Severus reached up and held her face in his hands. 

“You’re really alive?” He said hoarsely. 

“Yes. Now go to sleep, my love.” She whispered as she pressed her wand to his head. “Somnolentia.” And with that, Severus fell into a deep sleep, going completely limp as the hand slid from her face. 

Circe looked up from Severus’s limp, relaxed body at the chaos ensuing around her. She saw Remus and Sirius desperately trying to chase Ron’s rat from place to place, all the while the Weasley boy shouted “Scabbers! Scabbers! Scabbers!” over and over again. Then suddenly, the scurrying rodent before her eyes melted away in a twist and stretch of limbs. Just like she had watched with Sirius in the alley, but in reverse. And all at once, where there once was a rat, there was now a man. A fat little dumpy man with a distinctly rodent-like face. Circe was speechless. 

Remus and Sirius lifted the man to his feet, contempt and disgust in both their eyes. 

“Peter Pettigrew…” she breathed.


	29. "There's a bad moon on the rise."

The motley crue of Shrieking Shack attendees hobbled down the tunnel leading back to Hogwarts. Sirius was helping to shoulder Ron's weight. And Harry was helping Circe, despite her protestations. She suspected her ankle was broken or fractured from the Willow's root that slammed into her, but Ron's leg wound was looking worse from Sirius's teeth. It seemed a bit redundant to be complaining about her noticeably less bloody injury, but Harry had slipped himself under her arm and shouldered a portion of her weight. She hadn't wanted to leave Snape in the Shrieking Shack, but Remus had told her that they'd leave him his wand, his head propped up with Remus's jacket, and he'd wake up soon, as if from a restful slumber.

"He needs a good rest, Circe. He's been almost psychotic these past few days. No lessons, no meals, no breaks, nothing. He's only been existing to look for you. Bad times all around, you know?" he mumbled to her as he pulled Peter Pettigrew behind him. The light from outside touched her shoes as she looked to the floor awkwardly. "And don't think I'm going to let your little disappearing act drop." Remus added with a stern face.

"It's complicated." she muttered as Harry pulled her out of the tunnel and into the open air.

"I realise that, but complicated things need to be discussed, not avoided. I suppose that's my lesson from this year..."

Peter grabbed at the hem of Circe's coat and wailed up at her. "My dear, PLEEEEEASSE! Don't let them take me to the Dementors, you wouldn't want that, would you?! I know you're sweet and kind. All that music and joy in your little gatherings..!"

She looked down into his face with disgust. Round and buck-teethed as he was, he looked every bit as ratty as his animagus. She felt an uncomfortable shiver pass up her spine as she recalled all the times she'd seen him in Ron's arms, or tucked away safely in his pocket. His beady little black eyes had been watching her from day one, waiting for an opportunity to garner something for himself before he went scurrying off to the Dark Lord. His fingernails were long and repulsive as they clung to her coat. She yanked it out of his hands and regarded him coldly.

"I may not have known James and Lily..." she spat at him. "But I do know that you robbed a young boy of growing up with his parents, without his mother, and I _do_ know what that's like..."

Pettigrew snarled at her, deciding he wasn't going to get anything useful from her. He turned his attentions elsewhere, desperately looking for an ally.

Circe caught the sly glance that Lupin cast towards Sirius's back. She smirked at her friend and he rolled his eyes. The night air was crisp and cool, and as Sirius lay Ron safely on the ground, he walked over to a knot in the bark of the Whomping Willow and placed a hand over it, caressing it gently. Instantly, the agitated tree relaxed and was perfectly still and quiet. He moved, like a man in a dream, over to the crest of the hill and silently looked over the twinkling, glowing lights of Hogwarts in the distance. Harry similarly deposited Circe by a nearby rock and moved to join his Godfather's side.

"It's like seeing the ghost of James." Remus whispered to her as he watched the two of them stood side by side. He held Pettigrew firmly under the tip of his pointed wand. The short, shabby man snivelled on the ground, crying out incessantly for mercy to the stone-faced children nearby. Circe would have kicked him if she could. "They really were like brothers, you know…" Remus said wistfully, his eyes clouding over with tears. "Never one without the other. I think they understood each other in a way Sirius and I never did. Both from families in the Sacred Twenty-Eight, pure bloods, expectations, all that...But they both were as free as the night. They both had a knowing, an entitlement almost, that the world was theirs to mould and bend. I always just knew that there was a bond between them that I could never share in. I was content with it. That's why I told James to make Peter Secret-Keeper as well as Sirius. Peter needed that reassurance, I didn't. Despite being from much the same stock as them, he wasn't their confidant like I was. Were we really so awful to him that he'd fly to the Dark Lord's empty promises overnight? All those years of friendship abandoned, and lives snatched away? They could have been so much more if… if James hadn't died and Sirius…"

"If I was that boy…" Circe chipped in when her friend's voice faltered, pointing at Harry. "...I don't think I would have shown Pettigrew the kindness that he did."

"No?"

"I'm selfish, Remus. I would have wanted my personal revenge, even if it made you and Sirius murderers."

"Circe, you aren't selfish."

"Oh I am. I still haven't told you about how and why I disappeared." She touched a hand to the timeturner still in her coat pocket.

"All in good time, my friend. I just don't think I could deal with any more revelations tonight."

"I understand that." Circe replied with another bitter glance down at Pettigrew.

"After you disappeared, I prayed that I'd be able to catch your scent on the wind. But there was nothing. Not even a trace. I didn't want that awkward argument in the Broomsticks to have been our last memory. But as soon as you walked into the Shrieking Shack, I smelt you. Peonies and all."

Circe laughed as she looked into her friend's face. He winked playfully at her and wrinkled his nose. "And something else...Can you smell bacon?"

She delved her hands into her coat pocket and her fingers brushed against the bacon buttie she still had wrapped up in foil. She drew it out and sighed heavily.

"Is that…" Remus breathed. "How the hell have you still got that?"

"How the hell can you smell it?" Circe asked.

"It's so strong. God, it's almost…"

But Remus halted in his musings as a sickly feeling of horror crept over him. The thick clouds in the sky parted to reveal the milky white moon shining down brilliantly on the highland hills. Circe gasped.

"Oh God, it's full moon…"

"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, that's trouble on the way for all of you…" Pettigrew said with a sick smile.

Something passed over Remus's eyes. A darkness. A blackness. A violence. And he began to shake and convulse. Circe backed away from him instinctively. Every inch of her telling her to run as fast as she could and hide in terror from that look in Remus's eyes.

"Remus? Remus, the wolfsbane…" she muttered meekly. "Tell me Severus still made you the wolfsbane when I was gone…"

Lupin could not reply to her. Instead he turned his throat skyward and screamed into the night. A sound of rage and ruin. She heard the cracking of bones and the tearing of limbs. It made her eyes water. Sirius bounded over to him and took him into a firm hold, speaking to him softly and assuring him everything would be alright.

_He is braver than I._ Circe thought as she watched Black physically keeping Remus from collapsing in gut-wrenching pain. But scream he did, long and hard. So hard it warped his voice and his throat muscles tore until there was no sound at all. His face elongated, his limbs cracked and broke, hair sprouted out of everywhere Circe could see. It wasn't like the transformation she had seen with Sirius and Peter, flowing and clean. This was painful to watch, let alone to live through...

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Peter reach for the wand that Remus had dropped. Harry was quicker to act than she was, casting "Expelliarmus!" at him before she'd even registered what had happened.

"Don't you dare!" she shouted at Pettigrew as she reached for her own wand. Too late. Peter had transformed into a rat once more, scurrying off as fast as his little legs could carry him in the midst of the chaos. "No!" she screamed. Circe pointed her wand in the general direction of where she thought Peter had gone in. "Immobulus!" she screamed desperately.

A thornbush rattled and she heard a rodenty squeak. "IMMOBULUS!" she shouted again, pointing haphazardly at the bushes.

The leaves rattled again, deeper into the thorn thicket. "IMMOBULUS!"

Circe thought she sensed her spell strike something and a pained cry sounded out from somewhere in the dark mass of bushes. She squinted her eyes. Was that Peter? She tried to run after him, but pain shot up her right ankle and she collapsed to the ground.

When she looked up, Remus was gone. Replaced by a monster with snapping jaws and yellow eyes. She locked gazes with the beast, feeling the ice-cold grip of fear seizing her. Sirius had transformed whilst she'd been distracted with Pettigrew's escape. He too was trying to avert the attention of the terrifying monstrosity by snapping at its ankles. The werewolf fought back, grabbing the Irish wolfhound up bodily and throwing him with all its monstrous strength out over the thorn bushes. There was now nothing between the beast and her.

Until she heard footsteps at her back and a voice in fury screaming out. "Potter! You little shit…!". Even in it's growl of anger, she knew that voice of chocolate and thunder...

"Severus!" she called out desperately. He had woken up much sooner than she'd anticipated. Perhaps her heart had not been one hundred percent behind her sleeping spell. Especially how awful she'd felt performing a similar charm on Hagrid. The monster howled and she looked to her back to see Severus grabbing onto Harry's shirt in a tight fist of anger. He instantly relinquished his grasp on Potter as he looked to Circe on the floor. She saw the twinge of surprise in his eyes again as he realised that he had not, in fact, dreamt of her return. But his attention was immediately drawn by the werewolf where Remus had once been and Circe watched as the surprise in his eyes was replaced by palpable fear. He wheeled around and spread his arms protectively over Harry, Ron and Hermione. It was so futile, but so movingly defensive. Despite all of his cold, austere bravado, all he thought of in that moment was to protect the children.

"Severus, take the kids and run!" She shouted to him. Circe rose to her feet as the monster leered up on its haunches, the great toothed mouth of the beast drooling. Circe could smell the putrid scent of its breath. It's hunger for meat and blood. Perhaps there was still something of Remus in the beast, because it's attentions had now changed from Circe to Severus, and there was a hatred there, a look that screamed violence and attack. It moved towards him with a guttural snarl, a taloned hand raised.

"No!" Circe screamed. She moved forwards, barely registering the pain in her ankle. She put herself bodily between the monster and Severus. She sucked in her breath. Spread her arms wide like Severus had done. The moon stared down in silence.

Nothing prepared her for the pain that ran through her as the monster raked three great gashes down her chest, from neck to groin. Plunging it's jaws into her shoulder with a sickening chomp.

She didn't remember screaming. In too much shock. But she remembered the blood. Her blood. Seeping into the grass beneath her as she watched a great Irish wolfhound fight off the werewolf as she slipped into blackness. In her daze, she remembered something Remus had said about "Professor Smith pulp under the Whomping Willow" and she would have laughed with the irony of it had she not been winded and breathless with shock. Her eyesight faded as her ichor stained the ground. Then all she could hear was Severus's voice, screaming her name. And then, nothing.

* * *

Severus had been told to stay away from the Hospital wing. But there was no hell or high water that could have kept him from Circe's side. Sheer exhaustion, relief and the lingering effects of the sleeping spell had sent him into a restless slumber when he'd returned to his rooms. He'd started awake after a fretful but long overdue couple of hours of sleep in his armchair as soon as morning came. He hadn't even undressed, still fully clothed from the night before. But his dreams had been full of raking claws and screams in the night and opalescent moons in the sky. He strode down the Hogwarts corridors, a fierce look in his eye as his great black cape billowed behind him. She was alive. She was here. She had been attacked…

In the early morning light he looked even greyer and pallid than usual. The face he'd seen in the mirror the last week or so wasn't his. It was a specter. A roaming ghost from a folk-tale who was compelled on after death looking for somebody lost to them. Now, he felt alive once more. Dragged from the grave by Circe's miraculous reappearance. Despite his rather uncomely, bedraggled appearance, he had never felt more ecstatic. Yet, it was a hollow sensation. One that had been short-lived given the transposition of last night's events.

The frantic chattering and subdued, frightened looks when Circe had been brought up to the castle would have been enough for Severus to know something was wrong. Had he not seen the awful sight for himself, of course. He remembered with sickening detail the slash of claws and the glint of teeth as the monster had attacked Circe. Bitten Circe. On a full moon. He did not need to hear Pomona's whispered prognosis to Dumbledore. The bitter weeping of Minerva at her bedside as she helped to undress and bandage her. Her meek cries of pain as Severus had applied his mostly useless lotions and potions to her wounds. The grim daylight had brought with it the grim reality of her situation: she was infected.

Severus stole inside the doors of the Hospital wing. There was a designated Staff section that was set aside exclusively for Professors and he made a beeline for Circe's bed. As he entered he looked about the room for Pomona, keen to avoid her in case he should be forcibly turned away by her. Instead he saw Potter, Weasley and Granger in their own beds, still recovering from the long night beneath the Whomping Willow. Potter was still asleep. Granger was up and talking to Ron at the end of his bed, the boy's leg in a heavy brace. Severus had heard of the Dementor attack that had ensued after Sirius's fight with Lupin. How the boy had managed to fend off every demonic, happiness-sucker on site was beyond him. But nevertheless, once Ministry officials had begun descending on the site, they had found Black and Harry together in the Forbidden Forest. He thought of Sirius, somewhere in the castle, waiting for his speedy departure back to Azkaban to await the kiss of the Dementors. A thought that may have warmed him long ago, but somehow now just didn't sit right with him. Still, Sirius was not his priority. Right now, all who he was concerned for was Circe.

She was awake now. He could hear her sputtering breaths and groans of pain from behind the curtain before he saw her. He paused for a moment, listening to the sound of her fidgeting uncomfortably in her bed. He grimaced as his own heart ached empathetically for her. It ate away at him to hear her in so much pain and there was nought he could do for her, until she eventually transformed.

"Severus, come in... " she said suddenly. He jolted in alarm and coloured red in embarrassment. "I can hear your heartbeat. No, wait… I can smell you!" She laughed, and Severus felt the pain that wrapped itself around the light-hearted sound as it descended into a cry. He pulled back the curtain slowly and stepped inside. As Circe looked up at him, she mumbled "Cinnamon. Gosh, Remus was right. Cinnamon in the air…."

She looked rather ill. That was quite the understatement. In reality, Severus knew she was dying. Or at least the human part of her was dying and being consumed by the werewolf venom seeping into her veins from the three large lesions on her chest and the puckered, sore bite marks at her shoulder. She was drenched in sweat, unable to lie still as every cell in her body screamed in pain. Her eyes were wild and afraid and he saw the desperation in them as she looked to him.

"You're changing." He answered grimly.

"Heh." She laughed dryly. "I'm so glad I have you around to tell me these things."

He sat by her side, glad that he could hide himself from the eyes of Potter's lot in the student's wing. Placing the back of his hand against her forehead, he felt her skin burning hot. He let his hand linger on her forehead for longer than he intended to. She noticed, and he pulled away sharply.

"How many hours till sun-down?" She asked, her blasé bravado momentarily slipping. Severus looked into her eyes and saw a brief flash of panic there.

"It's six o clock…" Severus replied rather vaguely.

"Still morning then."

He thought of asking her how she was. Or perhaps where the hell she had been for the past four days. He thought of telling her how her loss had made him like a mist. The shell of a man. Fraught with sorrow and joylessness, in a waking world but just drifting through it like a poisonous miasma. He had screamed and raged and sobbed every last tear out of his body, pacing his room endlessly when Minerva forced him to rest. But he would know no rest until she was found. His bedchamber floor was coated with shattered glass now, every mirror smashed to pieces as he called out her name into the night. He cursed the feckless, cruel God that had done this to him again. Torn him from the woman he loved without being able to fight tooth and nail to let it not be so. He would have given his life, his very soul to have had her back and safe or to have at least tried to spare her from harm. And then there she was, doing the exact same thing for him by stepping in front of the werewolf.

"Why did you do that?" he asked desperately, finally breaking formality. "Why did you step in between me and the monster?"

"Because there was a werewolf-"

"And don't say "Because there was a werewolf about to attack you". You know what I mean." They locked eyes.

Circe wanted to scream at him _You know why, you dolt._

"I...I…" she faltered before a rip of pain ran through her whole body. She clutched at the wounds on her chest and screamed. Her groans changed alarmingly into an animalistic growl and Severus jumped up from her bedside in alarm. It subsided eventually, and Circe was left panting and frightened as she stared at Severus. The last remnants of her brave-face faltered and her eyes filled with tears.

"I'm so scared, Severus…"

He sat back down instantly, his hand was on hers before he even consciously registered it.

If it had been at any other time, Circe would have revelled in the contact of skin on skin between them. Now, it was a hollow comfort.

"It'll be alright" he said softly, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. It shocked her just how gentle he was being. Severus had never acted like this before. At least, not around her. _God, I must be dying._

"No it won't. We both know a lot of adult turnees don't survive the first transformation."

"But you're strong." his eyes were on fire. His second hand grabbed hers desperately. "And brave. You're so.. So brave Circe. And I wish with every bit of me that I could take this curse away from you like you took it away from me."

Her eyes sparked as a thought passed through her mind. "You mean, if you could go back…?"

"Yes, if I could go back I'd never of allowed you to take the hit from Remus"

"Severus, listen to me." she sat up in her bed and looked into his face. His hair hung like a dark curtain of misery around his face, but he looked up, intrigued by her sudden change of mood. He was suddenly very aware that her face was close to his, and he was touching her hand. "Is my tartan coat in that cupboard?" She motioned towards the long, thin hospital unit next to her bed.

Severus said nothing. He raised an eyebrow and wordlessly moved to open the door of the unit.

"It is." he said quizzically.

"There's a hidden pocket on the left hand side..." she trailed off, hoping Severus had the right idea.

He took the jacket off the hanger and passed an exploratory hand along the interior lining. He got a strong whiff of her perfume as the fabric wafted towards him. That telltale peony faintly floating on the air. Severus lifted the wrapped bacon buttie out of her coat pocket. Wrapped around it was the page she had torn from Hagrid's book of Scottish Folk-Tales. Circe took the page from his hands and looked down at it cautiously.

"Brigadoon…" she said with a far off look.

Severus set the bacon buttie aside with a raised eyebrow. Circe gestured for him to look again and he delved his hand in the pocket once more. His fingers brushed over something hard and his eyes widened.

"Take it out." Circe said.

Coiled around his fingers, Severus lifted from out of the hidden pocket her timeturner.

"Where the bloody hell did you get this?" he breathed.

"You remember when those Ministry goons were dredging the lake for something a few days back?"

He nodded.

"Well, Granger was very sure that she'd lost hers to the mermaids and after I...well… stole it, you told me that Minerva had bullied the Minister into giving her another one."

"You what!?"

"I took it from her. I… I don't know why. I just wanted it, I guess. I was curious about how it worked…"

"And do you even know how to work it?"

She shook her head solemnly, looking down at her hands, deeply embarrassed. "That was for you…" she said meekly, pointing at the buttie.

Severus paused and gazed at her as understanding hit him like a slowly encroaching migraine. He looked at the bacon buttie as if it were a bomb.

"Remus said that's the last time he saw you… Rosmerta had made you a sandwich to take back... After you two left the Three Broomsticks-"

"He left to find Black before I could follow, and I thought if I used the timeturner I could… Well, I went the wrong way..." She said slowly, looking up at him.

"That's… that's where you've been?!" Severus shouted at her. She flinched and she felt the wolf in her bristling at the assault, wanting to attack him. She screamed out again as her cry became a feral howl. Severus shrunk back from her as she gripped on to the gurney, waiting for it to pass. She realised, with growing alarm, that there would come a time soon when it wouldn't pass and she would have to let the animal take over.

"I didn't do it on purpose!" she wailed through bitter sobs. "I was just fiddling with it and the next thing I knew I'd seen four sunsets go by... I saw you all, looking for me and running around that alley and it broke my heart that I'd caused you all so much pain and worry! I'm so sorry, Severus..."

She descended into sobs and his anger at her diminished somewhat. Severus couldn't believe his ears, but it all made sense. How she'd disappeared off the face of the earth without a trace. No clue as to where she'd gone. Because she'd not gone anywhere really...

"Do you realise if you'd ever have been caught with an unregistered timeturner, you'd have been sent straight to Azkaban?" he hissed. "You might still be sent to Azkaban when all of this is said and done!"

"Well I rather think, far from being an object of doom, it's finally come in quite handy for me…"

Severus looked at Circe, and then back to the turner. He understood.

"Really? After all the mess you've created from your last foray with time travel, you want to use this thing again?"

"Severus, I may never see a bloody Azkaban prison cell if I do nothing... " she panted.

"You can't go back yourself," he said decisively. "Look at you, you can barely stand."

"Cheers, buddy." she replied curtly. "Guess I'll just lay down and wait to die then."

"No, that's not what I meant." he paused and sharply intook his breath, knowing deep within the decision he had already made. "I'll go back."

"What? No, Severus…"

"You must. You must let me…" and there he was, grasping at her hands again. "When you were gone… When I thought I'd lost you...like I lost Lily. I couldn't bear it. You've already saved me from this fate. Now let me save you."

She paused, trying to argue but sighed heavily, giving up the fight. "Please be careful…" she settled on. "If you run into trouble… Or if it's a situation where you have to put yourself back in harm's way then just leave me, Severus. Let fate play out"

_Never._ He thought. _I'll make sure you are safe. Even if it costs me my life…_

"Take this." Circe said, shoving the page from the book in Severus's hands. "I thought it might have been me who did it, and I'd somehow gone back again but… well… I guess I was wrong."

Severus slipped it into his pocket with a confused look, but did not argue with her. "Will...will you come back here and tell me what happened?" she asked after his no-reply.

"I won't need to." he said "If I'm successful, you'd never have ended up in the hospital wing anyway. And if I'm not…"

"I'll change." she finished. The dread began to descend over her again and Severus squeezed her hand in reassurance. "So...so does that mean…?" she began, her mind doing mental gymnastics.

"If I do save you from the werewolf's bite, you'll remember none of this, as it would never have happened."

"But you will."

"But I will." he echoed dreamily. He leaned forward suddenly, and kissed her.

His heart fluttered as he sensed her stiff surprise. But almost just as surprising, he found she did not pull away. The kiss was everything he had been wanting, craving from her ever since she waltzed into the Great Hall. Yet it was quick, clumsy, opportunistic. Something he would never have done normally, giving him a bittersweet satisfaction. It was a stolen kiss. Yet he reveled in his thievery like the thief who stole the Crown Jewels from The Tower of London.

Her hand reached upwards, possibly to smack him, Severus thought. But instead she slowly cupped his face and began pulling him deeper into their kiss.

It was all too much. He expected either for her to forget this or he would die without having to suffer through the fallout of this moment. The fact that she too wanted it almost sent his world spinning. He stood up brusquely, placing the time turner about his neck.

"Severus, don't you dare…" she breathed.

"Goodbye…" he muttered.

"Severus don't you dare go now!" She shouted, trying to rise out of her bed and catch him.

But it was too late. Snape turned the time turner three times and was sent spinning into the past, watching everything reverse around him at dizzying speed. Maddeningly, the first thing he watched, before the reversal of time marched backwards, was his and Circe's lips meet again in that brief moment that had happened seconds ago.

How strange it was watching yourself snog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Ladies and gentlemen... we finally have a kiss.


	30. "You saw the whole of the moon."

Chapter 30 - "You saw the whole of the moon."

Severus had stolen himself out of the castle well enough, but as he watched the fading light as the sun dipped below the highland hills it hit him of just how much of a herculean task he'd gotten himself into. He gathered his thoughts as he leaned heavily against the standing stones in the sundial courtyard. He had to be careful. Awful things happened to wizards who meddled with time, and he planned to meddle with time in one of the most intrusive ways possible. He tired to recall where he would have been at that time of the early evening. Or where possibly Circe would have been at this moment. He cursed himself for not asking her about her movements before he went spinning back in time. It all seemed like something Circe would do, charging headlong into danger and he dragged behind her. He was slow and purposeful, even his work in the wizarding war had been more about biding time and waiting for the right moment. She came at life with all she had, whilst he allowed life to happen around him. Her energy up amongst the stars whilst he was the grounded one. But he had to be the one that saw the whole thing through in every excruciating detail, he had to be the one this time to stretch for the stars.

 _This time it's my turn to wonder out in the world, whilst you stay put._ Severus thought. He suddenly remembered what Circe had said to him that night in Manchester. He stared at the palms of his hands and touched one to his heart. " _..._ _there's nothing in your day that you don't have the strength to tackle."_

Snape's fingers lingered on the timeturner around his neck and he stuffed it inside his doublet. It hummed against his skin, burning like the touch of a light acid on flesh.

He heard voices coming over the wooden bridge and he hid himself away in the shadows under the bridge's eaves.

"There's Buckbeak, he's still alive… " the voice above him said.

"Dumbledore said that we could save more than one innocent soul tonight."

 _Potter and Granger?_ Severus thought.

"Come on, let's go…" Harry said decisively and they rushed off out of Snape's earshot.

Moments later Snape heard another voice he recognised as the young Mr Malfoy, walking with Mr Crabbe and Mr Goyle, out towards the standing stone circle. Malfoy was boasting of his involvement in the hippogriff's sanctioned execution, making cruel jokes and fishing for compliments amongst his cronies. He rolled his eyes as he heard Draco talking of the enchanted binoculars he'd bought to watch the proceedings. He could not see them, but the boy's crass words and big-mouthed boasts were enough to make him cringe. He was firmly rooted to his hiding spot as he heard another set of footsteps pass over his head, over the wooden bridge.

 _Fuck , who is it this time?!_ He raged in his mind. But as he strained his ears to the new voices, realisation hit him and he blanched. It was the voices of Harry, Ron and Hermione he heard having a very different, less jovial conversation about Buckbeak's fate.

_Again?! How...How is this possible. I just heard them run down to Hagrid's hut._

"Ahh, Gryffindors. Come to watch the show?" he heard Malfoy call tauntingly to them.

"You… you foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach!"

 _Hmm, points to Granger for an inventively adjectivised insult…_ Snape thought as he listened to the confrontation. He felt a twinge in his own nose as he heard the collide of Granger's fist into Malfoy's face, and heard once more the sound of their footsteps rushing back over the wooden bridge above him. He itched to get moving, but he could not go anywhere until Potter and his friends moved from the spot above him.

Eventually, after their little blubbing session over the hippogriff's death he heard them rush off in hot pursuit of Ron's rat. He cursed under his breath again as he pictured that swine Pettigrew in Weasley's arms above. So close and yet so impossibly far, and he unable to do anything about it. As he poked his head from out of the bridge's shadows, he thought long and hard about the impossible situation he had just overheard.

_Dumbledore. Granger mentioned Dumbledore's name. Could it be he's sent them on his own little mission back in time...?_

Snape suddenly felt ill. This was all getting too much. Not only did he have his own ulterior motives to deal with in the past, but it seemed there was someone else running around trying to influence the course of this night's events. His head swam with the criss-cross of timelines and the confusion of different people at different times and different places. It suddenly felt like he was only seeing a piece of the puzzle. Only the crescent of the moon. He forced himself to get up and move, casting a swift muffilato and disillusionment charm on himself to quieten his footfalls and blend him into the surrounding area like a chameleon. Even though he knew he was near invisible, he still ran down to the forest by Hagrid's hut as fast as he could.

From his spot amongst the trees, he watched as Granger and Potter blundered their way through the past in full view, not a concealment charm cast amongst them. They thought they were so well hidden, so well concealed as they wrestled with the hippogriff and dragged it into the woods, to safety. What were they planning to do with the beast now? They disappeared off into the trees and Snape moved to direct his attentions back on the Giant's meagre hut. Severus watched as Hagrid, Fudge and Dumbledore talked agitatedly over the supposed disappearance of the animal. He stood as still as he could as Hagrid passed mere feet by him with his lantern raised high, grinning like an idiot as he muttered "Good job, Bucky…" into the seemingly empty air. He decided to follow the giant for a while, at a safe distance of course, whilst he thought of how best to locate Circe.

As he wandered through the trees at Hagrid's back like a stalking specter, he thought again of the dangers that faced him. It had suddenly occurred to him that what he'd told Circe in the Hospital wing may not be true. If he did, by some miracle, manage to pull off his goal of saving Circe from the werewolf attack, what would happen to him? There would be two Severus's walking around in two different timelines. As the thought occurred to him, he felt the timeturner burn against his chest, almost in agitation. As if it sensed what he was planning to do and the wrongness of it. Thinking of the Severus that would go on with his life, having survived the werewolf attack was like a splinter in his mind. It felt unnatural. And as the light faded around him, the tree trunks looming around him like cracks in a mirror against the dusky sky, the timeturner feeling hot and heavy about his neck, he saw for the first time that evening time splintering.

At first, he would have almost walked into it. But he came to a sudden stop and stared into the black abyss that had opened up like a tear in the fabric of the world. It was a nothingness that called to him, a complete void of dark. He stared at it, looking around it's frayed edges curiously as it was simultaneously there and not there. It was like a ladder in a pair of tights, if the tights had been the world in which he stood. But more so than that, it felt conscious and alive. It wanted him. It needed him and Severus fought desperately as he felt the pull of the void, time desperately trying to right itself by being rid of him and his intentions.

But then he heard her voice beyond the trees…

"Hagrid… It's complicated. So, so complicated..."

_Circe!_

Her voice was brilliant and scintillating to his ears. Like a comet, blazing a bright trail. Hearing her voice again put the wind back in his sails.

"God, I don't care 'ow it's 'appened, but this day's gone an' delivered another bleedin miracle!" Hagrid boomed into the twilight air.

He pulled himself away from the fracture in time with all his might, and skirted around its edges until he felt himself free of its influence.

_No, not yet… Not yet… I need to save her._

He was drawn to her voice like a moth to a flame. His heart soared as he saw her face again by the light of Hagrid's lamp. The giant seemed to be dragging her bodily by the hand along the path and back up towards the castle. Severus too was forced to comply with this change of scenery and followed yet again at a safe distance. He felt like he was rather running in circles as he stood back outside the Giant's hut, watching as he and Circe disappeared behind the door after she, rather out of the blue, had asked for a cup of tea. Crouched low, he moved under one of the hut's many windows. Suddenly, he let out a cry of pain as he trod on a shard of broken glass.

"Wot the 'ell was that?" he heard the giant grumble as he thudded over to the broken window.

Severus shoved a fist into his mouth and pushed himself tight against the walls of the building. He cradled his foot and prayed his disillusionment charm was still holding strong. Who the bloody hell had smashed Hagrid's window? He waited patiently for the giant to finish his wary look outside and go back to his kettle. He cautiously moved away from the open window as he heard Hagrid busy himself in his cupboards. From just behind the stack of wood Hagrid kept in his yard, he watched as he saw Circe fidgeting nervously with her wand.

 _What are you waiting for, Circe? Hit him with a confundus and be on your way!_ But he saw her flinch as the giant turned around suddenly to ask her something, hiding her wand at her back. _Ah, you need a proper distraction…._

Severus looked around him on the ground and picked up a rather large looking rock. He regarded it in his hand and looked back towards Circe, dithering and fretting near the open window. He didn't want to hit her with it. He was a terrible shot and he'd probably end up striking her when he didn't mean to. Then he remembered what Circe had given him before his departure from the Hospital wing. He pulled out the page on Brigadoon from his pocket and scrunched it around the rock. She had been adamant that he took it with him. Again he was struck by her assuredness whereas he was slightly dumbfounded by the truth of it all, how it all fit together. Another part of the crescent...The page wasn't much of a protective layer, but it was better than nothing. He tested the weightyness of the stone and the feel of it in his palm, now wrapped in the paper. He sucked in a long breath, took aim, and threw.

It hadn't hit Circe, but it had smashed its way through the remaining glass in Hagrid's window pane. He flinched and ducked behind the lumber pile as he heard the giant roaring out into the air for the attacker.

"Where are you, ye devil!" he cried out, unknowingly at Severus. "I ain't leavin' this window until ye show yerself!"

Snape waited patiently for Circe to seize on the opportunity and was pleasantly surprised when he heard the whoosh of magic and the giant step dozily away from the open window. As he sat behind the pile of timber, he took a moment to still his rapidly beating heart, listening to Circe moving and shuffling her feet. There had been a time, not long ago, that he'd imagined he would never hear from her again. Her loss was a great void inside him.

"Hello?" she called out. Snape did not reply. He closed his eyes as he let her curious voice ring in his head like a bell rousing him from sleep. It seemed strange to him that he should be helping to put her in harm's way, only to endeavour to save her from it later…

_But it's best if I try to change as little as possible. And she knew nothing of my presence here, otherwise she would have said so in the Hospital._

The timeturner burned at his skin as the thought passed through his mind, and he shifted uncomfortably as the space to his left opened up into a time-fracture. If he'd wanted to, he could have leaned right into it, letting time heal itself and swallow him whole into nothing.

_No, not yet. Not yet…_

Hagrid walked straight past him and the rip in time, carrying his lantern aloft, still a little befuddled by the charm Circe had placed on him. He watched as Circe ran headlong from the hut, and off towards her target location. He realised he'd spent too long waiting behind the pile of wood, resisting the pull of the void and she was quite a way ahead of him now. He hastily stood up, feeling like his head was swimming after rising too quickly following a few drinks. He had to run quite fast to keep her in his sights. He finally realised where she was headed as the Whomping Willow loomed into view. And for a brief moment he saw the black smudge of himself pass under its branches before he delved into its boughs.

 _Ugh, do I really look that imposing?_ He thought as he watched the dramatic swish of his black cape disappear into the tunnel.

"Severus!" she called out to him, and he almost answered her. He gasped as he composed himself. She'd been right there, just behind him when he'd gone to the Shrieking Shack as night fell. He'd been ready to eviscerate Black and Lupin both. The only solace in the torment of her disappearance was the promise of catching Remus and Sirius in their conspiratorial meetup. He didn't want to believe Circe had been found and attacked by the murderer on the loose, but perhaps if he met his old enemy head-on he could force a confession out of him and begin the slow march through grief and closure. Remus could go to hell too, even after their brief play at being friends the night after Circe's concert. He didn't have any particularly warm feelings towards the man, especially if he was aiding and abetting Circe's murderer. Still, he'd been wrong. So very, very wrong about them both. Again, Circe had seen the bigger picture before Severus had even realised he was looking at the wrong metaphorical painting… It was excruciating to watch. Knowing that she had been mere feet away from him as he'd been in indescribable suffering, missing her with every cell of his being.

Yet his musings were dashed to the winds as he watched Circe run forwards after his past self. He cast an eye up to the Whomping Willow, and back towards the tunnel. At the speed she was running, she'd never make it… The tree would swat her down before she managed to sneak beneath it. It was like watching a puppy waddling out into the middle of a motorway. Severus's stomach turned sick with anticipation. And his heart lurched into his mouth as he saw her go down.

 _No no no noo. Get up!_ GET UP!

He looked up at the Willow tree and it shook violently, throwing a large, thick chunk of branches towards Circe on the floor. He heard her scream. Raise her arms futilely out above her. He did not hesitate as he pointed his wand and cried out.

"Protego!"

He realised that he needed to hide, and fast. She couldn't see him. He threw himself into a thicket of bushes nearby whilst his spell shielded Circe from the onslaught of the Whomping Willow's branches. Eventually she recovered enough to cast the immobulus charm on the tree and it came to a shuddering halt in its thrashings.

"Who's there?!" Circe screamed into a desolate landscape. He waited in silence, smothered in leaves and coarse thorns. He held his breath, hoping that he'd not just endangered his whole mission. "Umm… thank you…" came her unsure follow up before she stole away into the tunnel beneath the Willow's root. Severus sighed in deep relief.

As he rose from the bushes, picking a few leaves from his hair, he felt well and truly run ragged. He looked up sourly at that infernal tree, looking beautifully harmless in its immobilized state, and he shot up a few bad-tempered insults at it. He took the time to refresh his concealment charms as he ducked into the tunnel and followed Circe through the darkness into the Shrieking Shack. He heard the frantic voices of Black and Lupin arguing over what to do with Pettigrew as he drew closer.

 _Peter Pettigrew?!_ Snape thought, his eyes widening as he pressed an ear to the wall in the room adjacent to the one where everyone was stood. _But… Sirius.. .He killed him. He's dead. How can he be here?_

Snape guessed that he was probably unconscious already and he rubbed instinctively at the back of his head, still a tad sore after Potter's disarming curse had floored him. He'd heard nothing of this, and he wasn't sure he'd have believed it if he had. Sirius's righteous fury at his old, former friend afforded Severus the cover that he needed to move about the old house. He screamed and shouted at the top of his lungs, eviscerating him with his contempt.

"You traitorous, lying, back-stabbing, faithless little bastard! What did he promise you, eh? What could he have possibly have promised you to turn you to _his_ side and betray us all, Peter?!"

"The Dark Lord… you have no idea of the powers he possesses…." a weedy voice that he slowly began to recognise whined on the other side of the wall.

 _That… that is Peter!_ Severus thought. His eager, high-pitched voice almost unchanged from their younger years. In his school days it had normally been saying something like "Go on, James." or "Good one, Sirius." and it filled Snape with the same disgust now as it had done when he was a teenager.

"So you sold James and Lily to Voldemort to save your own skin?" Remus retorted, his disgust manifest in his voice.

"He promised me safety. He promised me rewards. He was taking over everywhere, Remus! It was futile to try and resist him!"

As Snape listened, his own anger bubbled up and he felt himself shaking with rage.

_You… you are the one who killed Lily. You bastard, it was you all along..._

"Peter, you should have known that if Voldemort didn't kill you then me and Remus would!" Sirius roared.

"No, wait!" Harry's voice piped up. "Stop! My Dad wouldn't have wanted his two best friends to become murderers."

"Harry… this man is the reason why he's dead." Remus said levelly. "Why Lily's dead too." The mention of her name sent a shard of pain through Severus's heart.

"But, if he's not dragged in front of the Minister, we can never prove Sirius's innocence." the young boy replied.

A heavy silence descended over the ruin of a house and Severus held his breath, waiting for the outcome of Peter's fate.

"...Uncommonly kind, wonderfully clever, and fiercely loyal. And so is her son, it seems." Circe's voice came from very close to the wall. It was the first time he'd heard her speak since he had begun listening to the confrontation. It made him jump just how near she was and he pictured his limp body lying motionless in her arms on just the other side of the crumbling plaster. Snape heard a pained sniff from Remus, obviously moved by Circe's words for some reason. "He's right, Remus." she finished sagely.

In the scuffle and shuffling that followed, Severus stayed as still as he could whilst the gathered group of misfits agreed to leave and journey back to the castle, Pettigrew in tow. He heard Sirius leaving with Ron first, Hermione close behind. He waited for Remus and Circe to make a move, but he flinched as he heard Lupin's voice close to the wall as he moved closer to Circe.

"Leave him, Circe. He'll be alright."

"But… he looks so helpless." Circe said quietly, obviously referring to him. Passed out cold on the Shack's floor.

"Then.. here…" He heard Remus rufling about as if he were undressing and Snape furrowed his brow. "Put it under his head and he should be comfortable enough."

"Do you remember what you asked me at my party? When we were smoking out on the quad and playing truth or dare?"

"The "How much?"question?"

"Yeah, that one... The answer is - a lot. A hell of a lot, Remus."

"Oh Circe, I know. It's written all over your face."

"...so much that it hurts, Remus..." her voice was laced with tears and she sniffed. Severus listened, deeply confused but heart aching emphatically for her once again. Whatever she was on about, it was obviously laden with so much emotion that it pained her. Her sniffles became muffled and Remus comforted her. He realised that she must be crying into his shoulder and that familiar sting of jealousy towards Lupin reared its ugly head again.

"Come on…" Lupin said gently. "Let's go."

* * *

It had been a strange experience, looking at himself asleep on the floor, Remus's jacket placed neatly under his head. A series of fractals had opened up in the room around him as he'd stared down at his motionless body. But he found himself more intrigued by his calm, placid face, relaxed and un-lined with a scowl as it often was when he looked at himself in the mirror. The sight of himself almost looking at peace was enough to distract him from the pulsating voids of the ladders in time. He'd cast a quick jinx-relieving charm and had left when he was beginning to groan back into existence.

Getting himself out of the Shrieking Shack, though, had been a much more difficult affair. The tunnel to and from the Whomping Willow was carved through the sheer rock, born into the cliff that the tree sat upon. Severus had been forced to climb a craggy rock face to position himself just right to witness the scene of the crime. Much to his chagrin, he found himself poised in the middle of a thicket of thorns again. The only place where he could stay hidden and surveillent of events. He'd been forced to abandon his long cloak, in case it became tangled around him, and he shivered as the night air chilled him to the bone. It wouldn't be long now.

He let his mind wander as he waited in the cold for the moment of Remus's transformation to come. The moon was playing coy, hiding behind the clouds, only offering small glimpses of herself through the clouds. It was like she was playing with Severus. But his attentions were distracted once he heard the motley crue of Sirius, Remus, Circe and the children emerge from the tunnel. Peter, of course, made his presence known with that shrill, eager voice that sent a shiver down Severus's spine. He lolled about on the floor, crying and screeching at anyone who would hear him. Snape thought it was all rather pathetic. If Pettigrew had been outright caught, confessed to his betrayal, the least he could do is accept his fate with dignity. It almost made Severs feel worse that it had been this pitiful, feeble little man that had brought an end to Lily's life. At least Sirius carried himself with an air of dignity and an arrogance that he had loathed and was somehow envious of. Severus could almost see some of his old swagger and confidence returning to his otherwise haggard and corpse-like appearance as he walked about beneath the Whomping Willow's eaves. Severus looked at him with contempt as the Black he knew, the one that strutted about as if he knew a secret that you didn't, started to slowly return. Sirius may not have been the person who guaranteed his love's demise anymore, but he found he still hated him. Twelve years in Azkaban had done little to change that…

"I do know that you robbed a young boy of growing up with his parents, without his mother, and I _do_ know what that's like…" Circe's voice came clear and livid over the cold night air. "A rat indeed..." He looked over the brambles and saw her tugging her coat away from Pettigrew's grasp. Then, Circe stomped her boot heel onto his hand. Hard. Pettigrew wailed into the night and Snape flinched. He'd felt that heel before on his own feet. It bloody hurt. But it was only an instinctive reaction; he held no sympathy or warmth for Peter. He watched as Circe's eyes burned in fury in the dark night. There was something in the look in her eye and the way she carried herself in her anger that reminded Severus of Lily then. He smiled sadly, thinkin that perhaps the spirit of his long dead love had animated Circe's actions in that moment. Back to eviscerate Peter with her words as she had been known to do in life. Lily was always merciless in an argument...

 _Good girl…_ Snape thought. _Shame she didn't spit on him._

The moment was drawing nearer and Snape still found himself at a loss for how exactly he was going to save Circe from Lupin's attack. It had been a promise made out of gallantry and a deep need to grasp at some of the control that he believed he'd lost during Circe's disappearance. Perhaps this was just fate, as Circe had said in the Hospital Wing. But then he thought of her, tossing and turning in pain in that sweat-drenched bed. The fear in her eyes as they'd talked of the upcoming transformation. Her scared, small voice calling out to him…

 _Even if it costs me my life._ He reaffirmed to himself. _I let Lily die once. I let her leave this earth without me, bloody and bruised at her side. I won't let it happen again._

Then, the moon appeared. And chaos descended.

Severus stood in rapt horror as he watched Remus's transformation. Feeling every inch of his skin crawling in horror as he beheld the morphing of man into monster. He recalled that night in his teenage years when he had followed Sirius's directions to the Shack. Then, he had only heard Remus's transformation, hidden from his line of sight as he snuck up on Lupin. He had been saved by James and dragged to safety before he could see it in full. Now, seeing all of it in grim detail, was a fresh awfulness that even he couldn't have imagined. He knew James had saved his life that night. But from what _exactly_ had remained the imaginings of his nightmares. Now, he didn't have to imagine anymore.

"Remus...Tell me Severus still made you the wolfsbane when I was gone…" he heard Circe ask, and he realised that he hadn't. He had been so distraught over Circe's disappearance that the monthly chore of refreshing Lupin's supplies of the draft had not even entered his mind. His gut sank as he realised this all could have been somewhat avoided if he'd gotten his shit together just enough to ensure Remus was provided for. But knowing himself, and as he'd suspected Remus knew something about Circe's disappearance that he wasn't fessing up about, Severus suspected that he'd probably have withheld the draft from him anyway out of spite.

Severus could barely keep up with what happened next. He heard a whizz of magic and a shout of voices. Sirius, now in his dog form, leapt upon Remus and they began fighting with one another. Friend turning on friend in a desperate hour. He stood up, sensing that it was now time to make his move, but he froze as he saw Pettigrew shrinking down into his rat animagus whilst Circe shot a few halting curses at him, trying to stop his escape.

"Impedimentia! IMPEDIMENTIA! IMPEDIMENTIA!"

It was too late by the time Severus had the wherewithal to register that one of Circe's spells was heading straight for him. It hit him straight in the chest and he felt his legs turn to cinder-blocks under him. As if they were now as heavy as solid marble. He could not lift them an inch.

"Aaaaahhh!" He roared into the air. Somewhere in the thicket of brambles underneath him, he heard the triumphant squeak of a rat. He desperately looked for signs of movement, his own wand raised.

_Pettigrew can't escape… he killed Lily. HE KILLED LILY._

But it was useless. The little rodent was invisible in the thicket of thorns.

And then Padfoot's limp, weighty body collided with him.

The man and the dog toppled over in a sprawl of limbs, falling back into the sting of thorns. When Snape's shock subsided and he regained his wits, he realized that he and the dog were both in an impossible tangle. The wolfhound howled as he tried to rise up, but whimpered loudly as the thorns tightened around him. Snape tried to stand up too, but found his legs were still heavy and uncooperative. He began to panic. All of what he had done tonight might be rendered useless by this fuck-up. But Severus went rigid as he heard another rodenty squeak.

The next few seconds happened achingly slowly.

Severus's mind went into overdrive, thoughts racing and rattling through his skull at alarming speed. He had a choice to make: Pettigrew or Sirius.

_Pettigrew's close. He's here. I could find him. Find the bastard. He killed Lily. He's the reason she's dead. He killed Lily. I could avenge you. After all this time I could lay you to rest, my love._

"Severus!" Circe's voice ripped through his psyche like a tear in the fabric of his soul. Sirius, beside him began to thrash and bite at the thorns that restricted him. Not freeing himself fast enough…

_She needs you now. She is your now._

Severus looked back towards the Irish wolfhound and then back to the werewolf advancing on Circe and himself. His guts twisted in sheer terror. She called to his past-self to take the children and run to safety. He recalled all of this too well. He tried to move his legs. Nothing. And he screamed aloud again.

_Act, this time. Don't leave her on her own this time, old man..._

Severus pointed his wand at the thorns that bound the dog.

"Incendio…" he whispered. In a flash, the thorns burnt away from Sirius and he leapt to his feet. With a snarl, the dog rushed back over to the werewolf. Sirius jumped on Lupin's back just as the monster raised its claw. But their fight was recommencing and the werewolf and the dog engaged in their biting and scratching match once more. Severus watched from over the thorns as Circe rose to her feet and hobbled over to himself, Harry, Ron and Hermione. The _other_ Severus enveloped her in his protectively spread arms they began to move out of harm's way.

As the last of the immobulus jinx began to leave his legs, Severus heard a strange howl from the Forbidden Forest.

 _What the bloody hell was that?_ He thought as he began hacking away at the thorns around him with his wand.

He halted and watched as Lupin looked curiously out towards the source of the noise. Sirius lay bruised and bloody on the floor at his side, bested by the monster. To his amazement, the werewolf abandoned his easy prey before him and went bounding off after the noise he had just heard.

 _A werewolf will always respond to the call of its own kind._ Severus thought grimly, wondering if there was another meddler like himself somewhere out there. Sirius slinked off into the Forest, limping awfully, and Potter broke free of other-Snape's grasp to follow him.

"Come back here, Potter!" he screamed after him. But it was useless and the boy disappeared after his Godfather. Severus watched as his other-self and Circe talked, discussing between them what to do next in hushed voices. They moved to leave and Circe cried out in pain, clutching at her ankle. Severus scoffed as he watched his other-self take Circe up into his arms, carrying her in a very gallant show as she clung on him, her arms around his neck.

 _You show off… you could have just levitated her._ He thought with a wry smile. _Thank god that's the only injury she'll sustain tonight..._

But as he watched them all recede away back up to the castle, the swell of pride in his chest, the timeturner against his skin burnt angrily. Time was not happy.


	31. "My power. My pleasure. My pain."

Chapter 31- "My power. My pleasure. My pain."

The fractals and tears in the universe that had emerged before, when Severus had just been _thinking_ of altering the past, had made him feel odd and unsettling. Now, it was like the whole world was a foreign place and he was a pollutant. Severus felt that he was a new organ in a body after a transplant, and he was being rejected by the immune system. His eyes were shaking in his head and the world seemed to warp and fluctuate uncomfortably around him. So subtle, but so frightening. A rip in time opened up underneath him.

Severus fell into the call of the nothingness with a gasp. He reached out and grabbed on to anything he could as he felt himself falling. But the falling and the nothingness was so comforting. Like a mother's embrace. Like silence after a hectic day of lessons. It felt right and natural and good to let himself fall into the void. To let time erase him and right itself. To let the universe heal by taking him out of it. It felt like a death. A good, quiet death. But as his hand closed around a vine of thorns, the pain that dug into his palm roused him from the soporific lull of the blackness. The pain reminded him that he was here, alive, and wanted to continue very much in that state, thank you very much.

He tightened his hold on the thorns, wincing in pain as blood started to curl down his wrist. His legs and body dangled into the void, hanging into the nothingness, but with the strength in his arms he began to pull himself up. He groaned and huffed as he pulled himself out of the blackness all the while fighting against the draw of the nothingness. He raged in his mind, screaming back at the calmness of non-existence. He pulled and heaved until he could hook one leg into more thorns. He relished the pain, he gripped the thorns tighter. His other leg followed and soon he was free of the hole. Severus panted, wriggling far enough away from the rip in time until he felt its influence leave him. His hands were a bloody mess, full of thorns, and he stared at his palms in horror. The pain that had kept him from the deathless death was now excruciating.

He rose to his feet, and his knees stung too. He waded through the thorns carefully. Another series of time splits opened up in the ground around him, almost trying to trick him into stepping into one. He heard another howl in the forest and he sighed. He suspected he knew who had made such a clumsy attempt at distraction and diversion, having seen their careless blunders before by Hagrid's hut.

_Potter and Granger. Why would you bloody well call the werewolf over to you? You'll get yourselves killed._

He broke into a jog as he ran down the hill and into the Forbidden Forest. Remus's footprints were easy to follow in the bright moonlight and led him straight to the newest hair-raising moment of the night.

He heard the frightened cries of Hermione in a nearby clearing and his private predictions came horribly true. The werewolf was stalking its new prey, circling and toying with the two children, drooling fat drops of saliva onto the ground in anticipation of its fleshy feast. Severus gasped as the tree he was leaning against melted into a void and he stepped back in alarm. Severus raised his wand, ready to do what he needed to keep the children safe and pointed it at Remus. He didn't want to have to kill Remus, but he was endangering the life of Hermione and Harry. In another world, in another life, perhaps him and Remus could have been friends one day. Or perhaps he could have hated him less...

_Circe will be distraught..._

But in his moment of hesitation, he heard the flurry of wings and the deafening screech of Buckbeak. The creature reared up on its hind legs, bucking and kicking at the werewolf, protecting the children at the end of its hooves. Severus watched the creature in awe, and the werewolf reluctantly relinquished his prey and retreated off into the dark trees.

Severus sighed, resting momentarily against the trunk of the nearby tree. He listened as Harry and Hermione took Buckbeak and lead him away off on their own mission. He thought of what to do now. What could he do now Circe had been saved? What was there left for him? The spare Severus? Another fractal appeared behind him, and he almost considered stepping backwards into it. Perhaps this was what 'terrible things' happened to the wizards that messed with time. Perhaps to get what they wanted they had to pay the greatest price to achieve it. His hands still ached in pain, he was tired. Not just tired, weary. To his very bones. If he could step into the void and cease to feel, take everything that hurt him away and just...stop. That would be rest enough. A growl in the darkness made his blood run cold.

He turned slowly around and saw the werewolf there again. He looked into his yellow eyes and saw the hatred welded into his gaze. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. Walking into a non-existence was one thing, being eviscerated at the end of Remus's talons was another. The werewolf snapped his massive jaws together and his guttural bark was dripping in unadulterated loathing for Snape.

 _I hate you too, you ugly fucking monstrosity._ He thought, returning the wolf's gaze with an equally cold stare of contempt. And he turned on his feet and ran…

The trees flew past him as he sprinted away from the creature. He could hear the werewolf in hot pursuit at his back. Toying with him. Relishing the chase. He had his scent now and he wouldn't let him go without taking a chunk out of him first. There was a moment of quiet and Severus hoped that he had outrun the monster. He descended into a small dip in the forest, looking around frantically. He could see nothing in the low-hanging mist and impenetrable dark as his ragged breaths seemed deafening in the silence. He ran past a thick oak tree and felt a deep gash dig into his side.

The monster leered at him, having successfully lured him into a trap, but Snape ducked out of its way just in time. He scrabbled around in the fallen leaves, clutching at his side as he felt the warm, slick sensation of blood. Through the trees, he saw the facade of the Shrieking Shack once more. A last lighthouse of hope. He picked himself up and ran harder as the werewolf snapped at his heels.

He burst through the door of the dilapidated house, and looked around for anywhere that might shield him. Everything was either falling apart or outright missing. There was little of use anywhere. Severus desperately went from room to room as he heard the approach of Remus drawing closer to his scent. He touched a hand to a handle and flinched as he saw the slick redness of his own blood left behind on its surface. The bedrooms upstairs had nothing useful from his memory, so he decided to look around the ground floor. He staggered into what used to be the kitchen and peered into the gloom. There was a small cupboard under the sink.

_No… surely there must be somewhere else…_

Remus howled as his nails scratched against the Shack's rotting wood floors. Severus gathered all of his remaining courage and delved down into the small cupboard, cramming the tiny door behind him, holding it shut with all his remaining strength. He sat there, his legs pressed against his chest, in complete darkness, a single slither of light cut down his face. The claustrophobia hit him instantly and he thought of getting out of the cupboard and taking his chances elsewhere in the house. But the appearance of the werewolf through the small crack in the door, put a stop to that idea. He could not calm his panicked breathing enough, his sweat hung heavy on his brow, and the monster caught his scent again in an instant. It lunged at the door and Severus shouted as it pounded against the wood. Snape pressed against the very back of the cupboard, and it felt like the space was shrinking in size. Becoming smaller and smaller with each crash of claws against wood.

The werewolf roared in frustration and Severus smelt his putrid breath through the door. Yet he did not let up his iron hard grip on the door handle, even when it backed away and paced frustratedly from room to room in the house. Severus could see right down the Shack's corridor from his position under the sink, all the way to the front door. He watched for a while as the werewolf padded from room to room, casting Severus a glance down at him each time it passed through the corridor. He shifted about and groaned in pain as the wound in his side oozed more dark red blood. He touched a hand to the floor and he felt the same sticky ichor under his fingers. He felt woozy. He knew he was losing his life's blood fast. It seemed that the only choice he had left now was to slowly bleed to death or be torn limb from limb by Remus. And then another tear in time appeared at the end of the corridor.

He saw it shifting and pulsating through the crack in the door and he considered. It would be better to simply let time right itself and claim him back. The alternative was being eviscerated or slowly waiting to lose consciousness in the place of his childhood trauma.

_Find your spine, young man. Die on your feet. On your own terms._

He inched open the door and paused, waiting to see if the werewolf recognised his movement. When no charge at him came again, he silently crawled out of the cupboard and straightened his back. He winced as the wound at his side twinged but he dared not make a noise. He stared down the corridor at the fracture in time, staring his end head-on. If this was it, then at least it felt peaceful. It felt natural. And when he was gone, time would right itself. He closed his eyes, thinking of Lily, thinking of Circe and everything in between. He broke into a run. He sensed the werewolf swipe at him again as he sprinted past one of the rooms, but it sailed past him without finding purchase. And Snape ran on, straight into the arms of the void.

It swallowed him whole and he felt his entire being dissolve like a sugar lump in tea. There wasn't pain anymore, or terror, or happiness, or relief. There was nothing. And Severus leant into death like the arms of a lover.

* * *

And then he woke up in his chair.

He startled awake, gasping and panting for air, as if he had been resurrected in a frankensteinean jolt of lightning. Dragged back from the grave with a sensation that felt akin to being dragged back over a cheese grater. He clutched at his side and the oozing wound was not there. He clutched at his chest and the timeturner was gone. And as he took several deep and calming breaths he realised he was in his rooms in the castle.

Eileen Prince smiled out of her frame at him as if nothing was amiss. He stood up and scratched at his head, thinking through the last night: it was sore, from Potter's disarming spell, then he'd woken in the Shack to find Circe with the children and they had all narrowly avoided being attacked, then they had retreated back up to the castle carrying her in his arms to save her broken ankle from any more discomfort.

 _Circe_ … his head spun. He could remember holding her close to him in his arms. Her comforting smell potent and grounding, affirming to him that she was back from the dead, safe in his embrace after days of a waking-nightmare. He recalled the tickle of her curled hair as it fell about his chest. He remembered collapsing into his armchair, emotional and exhausted, at the end of the night. _No, there's more._ He pushed and pushed, the more he tried the stranger it felt, until it came back in a thunderbolt crack.

_She was bitten, I kissed her, I SAVED her…_

He gasped quietly to himself. Severus leaned heavily on the post of his bed, as he cycled through the fresh set of memories.. And began to laugh. Slow and quiet at first, and then loud and triumphant. He laughed until his stomach ached. Until he was breathless and gasping for air. But his recollection of the night suddenly reached its climax and his breathless laughs suddenly felt close and claustrophobic. He remembered the cupboard under the sink. He remembered the werewolf staring him down from along the Shrieking Shack's corridor.

_I… I died._

The memory of his last moments in the Shrieking Shack made him fall silent. He recalled stepping into the void and after that, as if he'd simply fallen asleep, there was nothing.

_My god, it was painless and beautiful. Like falling asleep…_

He rushed from his room and strode up to the ground floor levels of the castle. If he remembered his ordeal then what did that mean for everyone else involved? The first place he sought out was the Hospital Wing. Pushing open the huge doors he walked in on Potter and Granger, laughing as ecstatically as he had earlier. He avoided their glances and made his way over to the staff ward. Her bed was empty.

A relief as soothing as aloe wrapped itself around his chest.

_Thank God…_

Severus wiped his eyes and turned around, striding back towards Granger with a light now lit in his gloomy heart.

"Granger, Professor Smith. What-" he paused for a moment, as he'd been about to ask _What happened to her._ He reconsidered, thinking this question was a tad strange. "-where is she now?"

"Uhh, well the last time I saw her she was where you left her, Professor."

"Which was?" He asked impatiently.

Granger looked at him oddly, thinking that Snape was asking a trick question or trying to catch her out in some way. "In Professor Lupin's classroom. She said she wanted to be there when he came back…."

He nodded curtly at the girl and he left, leaving her feeling rather strange. Clearly Granger didn't remember anything of the first attack. Which was good news for Severus, but the clincher would be if Circe remembered any of it. If she did, then he'd want the ground to open up and swallow him. But as he walked up towards Remus's classroom, he wondered to himself… _Would that be so bad?_ For so long he'd been a singular man, all alone and at sea. Circe had become something like his lighthouse, leading him back to the shore. Shining her light into the gloom. But he found himself getting hot and sweaty. He'd kissed her only because he'd assumed that there would be no consequences. It was the kiss of a ghost. A kiss from the grave. Despite everything that had happened, he still hoped for nothing more.

As he approached the classroom he heard something light and lilting on the air. It reminded him of a medieval madrigal. Something that Flemish princesses would dance to in neat little circles with their ladies in waiting. He cautiously poked his head around the door and saw Circe sitting at Remus's desk with her head in her hands. Her back was faced towards him and her head was bent over their CD player. Severus was loathed to disturb her. Despite the obvious negativity in her body language, his heart soared as he saw her safe, well and secure. Because of him. The tune became something powerful and driving, the strong male voice floating over the top in a glorious dance from high to low. He inched closer to her and he could sense her misery.

"He's not come back yet." she suddenly said aloud, without turning to look at him. "Do you think he's alright, Severus?"

"This won't be the first difficult transformation that Remus has lived through." he replied levelly. Circe was obviously fretting desperately over Lupin. The night's events would be incredibly taxing on Remus and for the first time, Severus was not jealous of the concern Circe held for him, he was touched by her care for him. He waited for what seemed an age for her to face him. When she moved suddenly, placing something heavy and metallic on the desk, he flinched.

"This is it. The reason why I disappeared for four days." she said, still looking into her lap, head in hands. As if she was embarrassed to look him in the eye. It was the timeturner.

_Of course it would be back with her. She never needed to give it to me…_

He tried to sound surprised as he replied to Circe. "Is that… what I think it is?"

"Yep. Stole it from Granger last week."

"Curiosity got the better of you, did it?"

"You could say that. Could also say it was just a colossal bitch move because I wanted to say I had played with time."

"So you toyed with it a little too much and went spinning off four days into the future." Severus said matter-of-factly. Circe finally looked up to face him, her face lined with a deep frown. Severus could see she'd been crying.

"You don't sound that shocked." she said with a raised brow.

"I… well. It's the only thing that makes sense, isn't it. Why are you upset?" he asked evasively, sitting down on the desk to face her.

"I've caused so much pain, Severus. To Minerva, to Remus… to you." she gazed into his sullen face with red eyes. He looked back at her, utterly arrested by how graceful she was in her sadness. "I'm so sorry. Minerva practically fainted when she came to see me. And the look on your face when I found you in the Shrieking Shack… I can't even begin to imagine how I'd feel if I discovered you'd gone missing out of the blue, with a suspected killer on the loose, no trace of where you'd disappeared to." she grabbed his hand and began gently stroking the back of it with her thumb… in the same way he had done with her when she'd lay in the hospital bed. He felt his panic rising within him and he stared long and hard at her, waiting for any moment of revelation that betrayed what she remembered.

"How is your ankle?" he asked cautiously.

"Aching. It's definitely broken."

"Go and see Pomfrey, you martyr." he teased. She didn't laugh.

"Later… When I know Remus is alright. And S-" she stopped. _Sirius too_ , she'd been about to say. "And say how sorry I am to the Staff who helped look for me." she finished quickly.

"It needs to be seen to sooner rather than later, Circe." Severus mithered.

"Poppy will mend it in the blink of an eye. Others might not get off so lucky."

 _You weren't so lucky the first time around…_ Severus thought. But he paused for a moment, wondering if Circe was toying with him and she did still retain her memories from her attack after all…

"Yes, well… After last night we must count ourselves rather fortunate that no one was injured any more severely than a few broken bones and scuffles." Severus held his breath, waiting for her next reaction. She looked straight through him, her eyes clouding over with something vacant and far-away.

"No… I suppose so. But-"

"But what?" he asked as he began clenching and unclenching his hands. He was sweating again.

"I don't know. When I think back on the night, it feels like a splinter in my head. It hurts to think about. Especially when Remus changed. It's like… my head can't keep track of the memories."

Circe scrunched up her face and massaged her temples. She sighed heavily and poked at the timeturner on the desk again.

 _She doesn't remember…_ Severus thought, not quite sure if the feeling he felt within was relief or disappointment.

"Anyway, I'm more concerned about the future. What's going to happen to Remus. Me as well, after all this kerfuffle." Circe continued.

"Remus will have to be dismissed. If word of his condition ever gets out to the students then there'll be a lynch mob at the castle's gates before you can say…"

"Brigadoon?"

Severus's eyes popped. "What?"

"Nothing. It's just something… weird that still doesn't make sense from last night." Circe looked at Severus long and hard, hoping he could set her confused mind to right. If it hadn't been her who had thrown the stone in Hagrid's hut, or saved her from the barrage of the Whomping Willow, then who was it? Her head ached again as she lingered over those thoughts, trying to play them back in her mind. She sighed and let them slip away for now. "And I must say, Severus, you're very calm considering that you saw me speaking to a man who, to your knowledge, is a mass murderer! When I walked in on him and you during that little stand-off in the Shack, I thought you were about to tear each other's heads off. I thought I was definitely in for another lecture, at least..."

"I know about Pettigrew." he said simply.

"What? How?" she asked, aghast.

"I ...Well, I overheard Potter talking with the frizzy-haired girl and the ginger this morning."

"God, I wish I had your composure. If I'd just found out that the man who betrayed James and…" she hesitated, but a moment of bare-faced courage left over from her long night resurfaced. She felt brave enough to say her name, and say it to Severus no less. She wasn't her enemy or her greatest fear anymore. "... James and _Lily_ … wasn't Sirius, then I'd be in a bit of an emotional state to say the least."

Severus didn't reply. Feeling the gloom in his heart return somewhat as he remembered Pettigrew had slipped away under his nose. Circe watched his expression change and she felt that perhaps she'd been a bit too blasè with her last comment, perhaps he was keeping his emotions buried for her sake. She tried moving the conversation along.

"Do you think they'll allow me and Black to share a cell in Azkaban?" She said off-handedly with a deflated smirk.

"What are you talking about?"

"They keep timeturners under lock and key at the Ministry. I took one without being registered with the authorities. It could have been used for any number of awful things."

"Ah." Severus said simply.

"I came here to have a last listen to some of the music the MMAP have been playing. One last happy memory before I'm carted off to prison under the thrall of the Dementors for the rest of my life…"

Severus thought carefully for a moment and smiled. Circe caught his expression and frowned, confused by the seemingly inappropriate expression.

"But Circe, you told me when I found you…" Severus said to her slowly, in mock elucidation. "That you found the timeturner washed up on the shores of the lake after you walked back up from Hogsmeade. Wanted to rush back and give me my bacon buttie, didn't you. Of course, curious little Ravenclaw that you are, you picked it up and had a play, thinking it was just a simple necklace. Next thing you know, four days have gone. And that's where I saw you, by the lake, holding the timeturner, a poor little frightened and confused thing…So I had to have you accompany me as I endeavoured to apprehend Black."

"Severus…" Circe breathed. "That's bloody awful." She laughed.

"But Fudge will believe it if I corroborate your story. And if you give back the timeturner without a fight."

"He can chuck it back in the lake, for all I care. I never want to see the bastard thing again."

"Then stop your bloody snivelling…" he said, handing her a tissue from Remus's desk. "You'll live to cause another day of havoc in this school if I have anything to do with it. And you don't want the last song you hear before being dragged off to Azkaban to be this trollop." he waved dismissively at the CD player. She laughed a little and blew her nose. The sound warmed Severus's soul as he watched her rosy face brighten. Having being the one that had brought her a small smidgen of joy in this somber morning fulfilled him more than any stolen kiss could have. But he still felt sad at the lost memory of their kiss. He recalled the taste of her, the feel of her soft lips against his.

"I like this song." she said, a measure of her old argumentative self returning. She stroked the CD player slowly. "It's smoky and strange and powerful. It sounds modern and old at the same time. It lyrically doesn't make sense and it really _really_ does..."

Severus listened for a while, something in the song tugging at him as he was lulled into the tune by the hypnotic, layered voices. And then the huge, rising chorus:

" _Baby, I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey._

_Ooh, the more I get of you the stranger it feels, yeah…."_

"Severus…" Circe said slowly as she watched his expression relax. _The more I get of you the stranger it feels, indeed._ She stood up, until she was level with his face. He looked back at her through his hanging hair, a strand placed devilishly over one of his eyes. She reached up and took his face in her hand and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you."

"For what?" he replied hoarsely.

"No clue."

* * *

Circe realised later that morning that she'd better contact her Dad and explain that she was alright and everything had been a huge misunderstanding. She reluctantly left Lupin's classroom to send Ziggy post-haste with her message to The Midlands. After Pomona had cornered her too and tended to her broken ankle, it was too late and Lupin was gone. Remus left Hogwarts that afternoon. Circe had not been there when he'd returned limping and lethargic to his classroom and perhaps that was for the best. She would have cried and tried to convince him to stay. He would have cried too, no words from anyone would have touched him that what happened last night wasn't his fault. He'd left her a short but poignant goodbye note in her rooms, telling her that he was glad she was safe and thanking her for all of her help with regards to "Padfoot".

"Oh Remus…" she had sobbed into her pillows as his huge gramophone sat on her vanity table, by her side. He had left it especially for her. "I'll see you again soon, my friend. If only to give you back these awful jazz records…."

News of Black's escape followed not long after. The castle was a-buzz. He'd been sprung from custody in yet another miraculous escape before the Dementors could reclaim him. Circe theorised that Dumbledore must have had something to do with this as the Dementors were gone from the Hogwarts skies the very next day. Pettigrew had never been found. A bittersweet victory, but a victory nonetheless. Sirius was free, and the right people knew of his innocence.

Circe was indeed summoned to explain herself in front of the Minister, but as Severus had stated, he was a rather pliable man when presented with the right words and the right ideas. He had needed little convincing of her story of ignorance and just seemed glad to have the unaccounted timeturner back under Ministry control again.

It was about a week later when the gifts started arriving.

First came Harry's _Firebolt_. The new, top of the range broom wrapped up in crisp, clean brown paper and accompanied by a single silvery white feather, hidden in the sticks of the brush. She rushed outside with the rest of the eager Gryffindors as Harry took to the skies in a test-fly, laughing in delight as Potter screeched with the sheer speed of it. A hand tapped her on the shoulder and she wheeled around to face whoever it was.

"Hagrid!" she said in surprise as the Giant loomed over her. She still felt a strong stab of guilt whenever she saw the Groundskeeper, but he appeared to be none the wiser to the memory charm she'd pulled off on that fateful night.

"This 'as just been dropped off for ye at Hogsmeade station, apparently." Hagrid said, holding a small parcel out to her. "Someone from the village walked up to the castle to let us know."

Circe took it from his hands and saw her name written in long, elegant letters at its front. She tore it open and out slid an odd clunk of metal and plastic. It had been so long since she'd held a device like this that she almost didn't recognise what it was instantly.

"He didn't…" Circe breathed.

"What is et?" Hagrid asked, eyeing up the device in her hand eagerly. A note slid out of the parcel too and floated delicately on to the floor. Another brilliant silver feather following it soon after. Circe bent down and picked it up, hands shaking.

" _A Black always repays his debts, Professor Smith. Do not worry too much for Remus, I shall do my best to provide for him whilst I can. I hope we can meet again soon on less desperate and ill-mannered terms. Perhaps we shall have chicken..._

_From, 'Honey'. "_

Circe laughed and turned to Hagrid, smiling like an idiot. "Summit nice?" he asked.

She ran from the courtyard, still holding her present from Sirius, and she didn't stop running until she reached Hogsmeade.

She jogged into the station panting heavily and looked about the car park for Sirius's gift. She clicked at the button on the front of the device and almost jumped back in alarm when the car immediately in front of her lit up. It was a brand new, deep green Jaguar XJS coupe.

"He bought me a car… He bought me a bloody car!"

_Now how the fuck am I going to be able to afford to insure it on a teacher's salary…_


	32. "Tomorrow never knows what it doesn't know too soon"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hello...? yes? Is this Britpop's Anonymous? Yep? Good. Okay, I'll start. Hello my name is Clumbs and I'm addicted to Oasis

Chapter 32 -"Tomorrow never knows what it doesn't know too soon"

Severus sighed and looked at his watch. She was late, again. He'd studied every last detail of 'Diana and Acteon', his eyes lingering over the tableau of naked flesh and the bitter surprise of the hunter. The moment of great drama, captured in the picture, was wearing thin. Every face, an expression of shame, passion and abject horror, he had gazed at them all. He felt sorry for poor Acteon, having chanced upon the vengeful and virginal goddess of the Hunt in a moment of intense vulnerability, but it wasn't his fault. Diana's look could kill as she glared at the virile young man, whose only crime was finding her at the wrong place at the wrong time. Severus knew the story, part of Ovid's tales, and poor Acteon would finish the story by being turned into a stag for the shame of seeing the Goddess during her bath. Meeting a grizzly end at the jaws of his own hunting dogs.

 _Lucky bastard. At least then it'd be over quickly._ Severus thought, checking his timepiece once more. No matter how many times they did it, he always had to work himself up for a meeting with Circe. The butterflies in his stomach would go crazy within him until she arrived. She was half an hour late now. It had always been Circe's habit to turn up to their meet-ups either five minutes early or five minutes late.

 _Always either too much or too little._ Severus thought with a wistful smile _Never quite able to get the 'Goldilocks' balance, is she...?_ Whether it was mixing potions or fiddling with time-altering devices, she was always either slightly under or slightly over her target. Half an hour was taking the piss though…

Severus wondered whether Circe was having one of her 'forgetful episodes' and he privately grimaced at the painting. Ever since that night when he'd saved Circe from the werewolf's curse, he'd noticed some troubling side-effects with his friend. She had waves of what she called "skittishness" where her head would ache and she'd find it difficult to hold on to memories. It was deeply troubling to Snape, but he tried to keep his concern hidden from her. It was a small comfort to know that they didn't last for long, a day or two at most, and she would return back to normal. But the last time it had happened, it had occurred on a day when she was meant to meet with him. He'd instantly grown worried and had left the Gallery in a nervous state to look for her. Had she finally been targeted by Voldemort? Was she in danger? After apparating back to The Midlands, he'd ended up knocking on her family home's door when her little brother Alec had answered the door to him. The little boy almost burst into tears as Snape had looked down his nose intimidatingly at him, asking if Miss Smith was in. Luckily, before the blubbing had started in earnest, Circe had come down the steps, in her dressing gown, her cheeks red and her eyes popping when she saw Severus at the front door. She'd thrown on her clothes and they'd gone for a walk in the local park together, leaving little Alec slightly bemused by the scary-looking, black clad visitor who'd come to take his step-sister away…

It was then that she'd first told him of her forgetful episodes. They'd sat together, side by side, looking out over the duck pond in Leamington Spa's Jephson Gardens. She'd confessed then of the migraine-like headaches she'd get whenever she'd think too closely on that night underneath the Whomping Willow, and then the forgetfulness would start. Severus had sat there and listened bashfully, knowing that her head was probably reeling against the sudden changes to her fate after that night. A sort of latent PTSD almost… But then the next day she would be back to normal and her head would be in working order. Luckily she'd not forgotten anything too important, until that day. Severus had blushed rather fiercely when she'd asked him how he knew where she lived. He'd responded in his rather evasive Severus-esque way that she'd gotten frustratingly used to over the course of their friendship. But it had made her smile coyly as she'd watched the ducks paddling merrily on the surface of the pond.

As Severus debated over whether he needed to go looking for her again, she was suddenly there, sitting down beside him in the Scottish National Gallery. She muttered her apologies and tried to avoid his eyes.

"Another forgetful episode?" he asked. Circe sighed heavily and tucked her hair behind her ears. Snape noticed her agitated leg twitching as she pushed her keys and her Walkman into her pocket. He cast a probing eye up and down her body and he saw that she'd hastily dressed herself in a rather casual outfit of a pair of high waisted leather-look trousers and a long sleeved, ripped Bowie T-shirt. Her traditional tartan coat was gone, instead she was in a musky-smelling afghan coat, lined with bristling cream fur. It was an interesting choice of outfit for a sophisticated day ambling around a gallery..."Nice coat. Very boho. Very vintage." he finished when she did not reply.

"It was my Mum's. Dad was going through the attic the other day and he pulled it out of an old trunk."

"It suits you." Snape smiled at her and she looked into his face for the first time since she'd sat down. She smiled back at him and felt a little more settled than she had been before. Severus cast his eyes down again and saw that her hands were covered in inky writing. He scrunched up his face and grabbed at her wrist. "What's all this?" he asked, turning her hand over. On the very top of her left hand were the words "Severus: SNG".

"What I've been doing to help me remember when I get skittish... " she said, rather embarrassed as she pulled her hand away from him. Snape was mithering over her again. It was sweet, for sure, but she hoped that all of this would all go away once she got back to Hogwarts, chalking it all up to a bit of stress after the events of last year. So far she'd only forgotten a few appointments or a meeting here and there. Nothing too important...But she paused as she looked at her hands on her lap. They were covered in black inky messages. She began to breathe rapidly as she felt a rising sensation of panic.

"What? What is it?" Snape asked, suddenly very attentive to her as she covered her mouth in her upset state.

"Oh God, I don't remember writing half of these Severus…" she said almost hysterically. Her hands began to shake and Snape grabbed them again. He tried to hold them steady as he reassured her.

"Look, let's go through them one by one. It can't be that bad because you remembered you needed to be at the SNG. The Scottish National Gallery…" he said in a slow, low voice, doing his best to calm her down. Circe nodded and sniffed. "What's this one?" Severus pointed to a message on her wrist.

"Uhh.. 'RL." she read aloud. Circe scrunched up her face and pushed her mind to relinquish answers. "Oh! Remus! I was going to write back to him."

"And did you?"

"I… I think so." she answered unsurely.

"Alright, that's good. Two things you can tick." he traced a tick on her skin and Circe fought to keep her arms erupting in goosebumps. "This?" he pointed at another smudged message.

"I think that says 'Tonks… something, something.' I don't know."

"Any idea what that's about?"

"No…" Circe answered meekly.

"We shall find out then." Severus answered confidently. Once again, Circe felt a little calmer with him by her side. It marvelled Snape that he had been slightly irritated with her before she'd turned up, now all of that was a distant memory as he dedicated his whole efforts into keeping her from crying. He glanced down to her delicate wrist and he realised he still held her hand in his. Her skin was soft and smooth and his whole body ached for her. As he glanced up to her, he realised how close together they were sat. It pained him how much he wanted to kiss her again. He wished he could know her as intimately as he had on that morning that never was, in the hospital bed. His dreams had made a point of replaying that moment to him, in excruciating detail as he reimagined the taste of her lips and the return of her passion for him before he had gone back in time. It had been a small indiscretion, but something that had opened the doors to several hot and heavy nights twisted in his bedsheets.

And then there had been those times when he would've sworn his Dark Mark had twinged...

"'Tell Severus about the dreams'...?" he asked curiously, his eyes seeing another inky message on her opposite hand.

Circe gasped and snatched her hand away. "What?! Where's that one?" she asked, a little flustered.

"On your right wrist, just under your sleeve..."

"Oh bloody hell…" she breathed.

Circe cursed her past self for committing that to notice. Her bad dreams had been growing even more frequent and frightful over the summer. Considerably more memorable after Sirius and Buckbeak had escaped to freedom and Pettigrew had scurried away with no consequences for his past actions. She could only remember snippets here and there: A ballroom, many hands, hooded figures. But since the night of Remus's transformation the dreams had almost changed tact, and instead of trying to frighten her into a particular course of action, they were trying to tempt her… Much like Severus, she too had been plagued with explicit and sexual nights whilst she slept. The dream she had had before, with him and her entangled in the library, was almost PG13 compared to some of the other things she'd dreamt of recently. It was as if somebody knew that the way to get her attention, or the way to her heart, was through Severus... But once the initial throb of lust in her loins died down, and she found herself lying in her bed staring at the ceiling, her dreams didn't leave her with a sensation of fulfilment. Instead she felt troubled. Disturbed.

"Do you remember when you asked me last year… if anything 'troubling' had happened to me after the Basilisk was killed?"

Severus sat up, feeling suddenly very uneasy. "Yes…?"

"I've been having these… dreams for a while. I didn't remember them for a long time. But I think I've been having them for the best part of a year."

"What happens in these dreams?"

Circe blushed fiercely, she couldn't look him in the eye. "I… uh… it's hard to explain..." she said vaguely. _It's not hard to explain at all. I fuck you every which way you'll have me and I bloody love it._

"Do you see anything or anyone specific?"

"Um, yes..."

"Tell me." his eyes were a wholly different sensation now. Where they had once been kind and doting, they were now solid and wary.

 _I guess I don't have to tell him about_ _ **that**_ _part of the dreams…_ Circe thought. _There's the other bits._

"Well I remember… a big, empty ballroom. Like... a crumbling palace or something. There's an old man and an old woman. Hundreds of… I don't know…. Tramps? A girl with pigtails in a Hogwarts uniform. And someone in a hooded cloak…"

Severus looked back to the painting before them. He gazed at the vicious sidelong glance Diana was giving Acteon again. He imagined, if he were able to see Acteon's face, he'd be pulling a similar expression of dismay to himself. He was trying not to jump to conclusions, look at things logically, bide his time. But it troubled him deeply. As if he'd walked into Spinner's End and seen his father's old coat placed over the bannister. The hint of a return of an unwanted presence. He itched unconsciously at his tattooed wrist. But it could just be bad dreams, after all….

He hoped it was all just bad dreams and paranoia...

"Severus?" Circe asked, and he turned back to her sharply. She frowned at him, unable to muster her next few words. He sucked in a deep breath, seeing that he had made her similarly unsettled by his ruminations. The last thing he wanted to do was make her feel even more uneasy given her recent forgetfulness.

"It's nothing to fret about. A manifestation of stress, probably…"

"Oh."

Circe looked to her hands again and tugged at her mother's jacket sleeves. She couldn't figure out why she'd written that message on her hands if she felt so embarrassed to talk about it. Had her past self been able to remember something that she couldn't now? Something that was bigger than Severus possibly knowing of her many graphic sex dreams of him? She sighed and fidgeted with her sleeve again when her eye caught another message.

"Wait, there's one more here… Upside down." she said. "That's not my handwriting."

Severus grabbed her hand again and pulled it up towards his face. "God, you've almost washed this one away. I can barely read it…"

"What _can_ you read?" she pushed.

"Oh I don't know… is that word 'Gig'?" he pointed at her hand. "And then there's a 'Q'... 'Quid'? And a 'WC'... 'Love Myron'."

"Oh shit…" Circe stood up suddenly. Her afghan coat fluttered around her and she looked at her outfit as if she'd just realised what she was dressed in. "Jesus, Sev. Why didn't you bloody tell me I was dressed like this?!"

"I … I did… I mean, it's not your usual garb for our meetings here, but- "

"Quidditch World Cup, Severus!" she shouted, garnering the attention of several muggles in the gallery. Severus flinched and stood up with a shush. "I have a gig at the Quidditch bloody World Cup! Myron tried to remind me…"

"What? When?"

"Today! I've double booked myself. I forgot I was meant to be with the band this afternoon for the sound check!"

"Ah…"

Severus's heart sank, he normally was the one who ended up leaving first during their meet-ups just in case a look of disappointment on his face betrayed him if she were to make her excuses first. He slowly sank back into the bench they'd been sitting on. He felt robbed that she'd be going so soon and he looked at his shoes. Circe, to his surprise, grabbed his hand and yanked him back on to his feet.

"Come with me!" she said, bright eyed. "I'll tell them you're our Sound Tech, or something. Sneak you in so you can watch the Final!"

"To the Quidditch World Cup?" he asked with a cynical raise of his brow. "It's not really my scene, is it."

Circe could recognise when Severus was being cold to her. He wasn't being cold, per se, but he was certainly keeping his emotional distance. Circe knew that it all probably stemmed from her disappearance at the end of last year, when she'd accidentally gone forwards in time four days and Severus had been left lost and alone without her. She frowned, thinking on what she had been told by Remus and Minerva of how frighteningly unhinged he'd been during her absence. It was at once touching and worrying to hear of how distraught he was. Circe knew that his attentiveness to her over her forgetfulness was a knee-jerk reaction of who she knew he'd always been at heart, a caring, kind person. But she sensed him pull back from her in that moment, willing himself not to get too close to her again, in case she should disappear again. His eyes practically ached with his confliction. It was if he were still waking up from a bad dream.

_He doesn't trust me, or...well.. He doesn't trust that I'll always be around._

"Oh come on, Seveus. Don't make me say it…" She said with a wide grin.

"Say what?"

"Please?" her eyes sparkled. Severus felt himself blushing and all of his wit left him. As did his urge to resist.

* * *

It had been quite some years since he had been on a muggle train. But Circe had insisted that they go at least some of the way to Dartmoor without apparating. She could just about stomach apparating from the Midlands to Hogwarts without being sick, any more than that and she'd be green with nausea for the rest of the night. Still, Severus had found the journey from Waverley rather companionable as the countryside whizzed by with the two of them sat opposite one another, sharing a table seat, both of them plugged in to Circe's Walkman. Their heads were bent together, looking like they were conspiring and whispering to one another. But both of them were listening intently to the new CD Circe had bought in the station's WH Smiths.

"This is it, Severus. The album that's going to define the decade for British music."

"Allright, 'Rolling Stone'..." Severus said with a roll of his eyes.

"You know, that Diggory kid was right. They're gonna put "Manny on the map" with this record. Fuck, they're gonna put Cool Britannia on the map with this. And I had to get the second album as soon as I finally listened to them."

Severus picked up the album's inner sleeve and thumbed through it. "Look at them… for people who are game changers, as you say, you'd think they'd know how to use a pair of tweezers."

"Nahh it's all part of the charm. That Mancunian, Northern, meat and potatoes rock'n'roll, working class attitude. D'You know what I mean?" She slipped effortlessly into a Manc accent and Severus allowed himself a small smile.

"I'm afraid I don't."

"Ahh come on, Sev…" She stood up and hovered in the train carriage aisle, swinging her arms from side to side in a confident Gallagher-esque swagger. She sounded to Severus like that girl he'd met behind the glass of The Hacienda. "You never felt like a Johnny-Big-Bollocks, in the mood for a bit of smash and grab? Throw a TV out a hotel room window. Doesn't matter if it's outta tune. Let's be fookin' avin ya. Am mad for it!"

"What the bloody hell are you doing, you thug?" Severus asked as his smile grew wider. She laughed and sat back down in her seat as the ticket attendee eyed her up suspiciously.

They listened to all of ' _Definitely Maybe'_ and then ' _What's the Story Morning Glory'_ again. As the hours and the stations cycled by, Severus soon saw what her fascination with this band was. It was certainly a sucker-punch of an album. Unapologetically rude and loud. She was right, it did make him want to kick something. But it was also incredibly heartfelt and rousing when it wanted to be. They eventually pulled in to Birmingham Moor Street and Circe was quick to drag Snape off the train and into the throng of muggles. He felt a little uneasy in the city, knowing that his father and mother had moved somewhere here after they'd upped-sticks and left Spinner's End one day during the war. It seemed that every grim face around him was a Tobias Snape in waiting. As he and Circe walked towards Digbeth, he felt uneasy and his mood did not brighten when she ushered him into a deserted old factory opposite the bus station. A few building scaffolds were positioned inside the huge factory's interior, the workmen absent.

"It used to be a custard factory." Circe explained. "They used to make Bird's here before it was abandoned. Think they're turning it into offices…"

"Bird's custard?"

"Ahh come on, Sev. We're both children of the West Midlands, we grew up on Bird's Custard!"

"No, I know it. I'd just… forgotten about it. That powdery stuff that you'd add a pint of water to?" Severus remembered the smell of it, hot and sweet on the hob as his mother made it up to go with his sliced banana. A favorite pudding of his when he was young.

"Eurgh, you made it with water? You're meant to make it with milk."

"We couldn't afford that much milk. And my father would have been angry if we'd used it all up and he had none left for his porridge..."

Severus went quiet and Circe was at a loss for what to say.

_Don't say anything, Circe. Give him time to "wake up" from the bad dream._

He stood in the quiet, gutted interior of the factory, staring vacantly around the concrete walls. Her footsteps echoed off the floor as she approached him, laying a hand on his shoulder. He almost flinched as he turned to face her.

"Um.. do you know where you're going?" Severus asked, a little dazed.

"I went to Dartmoor once when I was a teenager, and if I remember what Myron told me properly, the pub that most people have been arriving at is just a five minute walk from where the stadium is."

"And you know this pub?"

"Yeah, popped into it for a Sunday roast when we'd finished hunting for the Hairy Hand of Dartmoor."

"The what?"

"The phantom Hairy Hand of Dartmoor that materialises out of thin air and makes cars swerve off the-"

"Shall we get going?" Severus asked impatiently, holding out his arm to her. Circe smiled and took his arm in hers, and with a wave of her wand they disappeared with a pop into the ether.

* * *

The pub, when they arrived just outside its doors in the midst of the beer garden, was absolute chaos. As the destination for many wizards apparating and those using the floo network to reach the World Cup, it was chock full of bright eyed and excited Quidditch fans. It was a wonderfully balmy, warm summer afternoon. The golden hour made Circe's hair shine like pure bronze and Snape was quite breath taken by how honey-like her skin looked, and the flecks of gold that were buried deep in her enchanted eyes. Severus had to keep his head low, seeing many Hogwarts students in the crowd as he waded through the huddled masses. Circe was able to get herself and Severus waved through the barriers and safely into the camping grounds by telling the attendees that she was "the entertainment". Severus had been ushered through with her without so much as an upwards glance.

"Oh, just make sure that you keep the magic to a minimum in the camp grounds. They're renting it off some muggle farmer and a few people have already tried to pay him with galleons…" the attendee had said, head buried in a clipboard. "Music tent is the big red one about five hundred yards that way." He waved up towards the mass of tents and Circe thanked him quickly as she dragged Severus behind her.

"So are you supporting the Irish or the Bulgarians, Sev?" Circe asked as they walked through the buzzing crowds of wizards setting up their patchwork of mismatched tents.

"Neither…" he responded sourly. A peddler selling various green and burgundy coloured merchandise pushed past him, waving a scarf of both teams in his outstretched hands. His cart was pushing itself as he called out to the witches and wizards around him, trying to sell his goods. A myriad of jaunt, upbeat tunes drifted on the air, music coming at them from all angles and blending together in an indistinguishable clamour. Other witches and wizards were spinning colourful charms and small fireworks into the air as they played exploding snap or drank deep-amber bottles of cider, laughing heartily. Circe passed many who were setting up their tents with their wands out for all to see, as the tent's canopy seemed to drift upwards into the sky as if an invisible giant was hoiking it up.

"Good Lord, that poor farmer will have nothing left in his mind after all the memory charms they'll have to cast on him." Severus grumbled.

"I'll have to choose who you're supporting for you then." Circe said, approaching the peddler and buying a scarf of green and burgundy. "I think the burgundy would suit you most." she handed the Bulgarian scarf over to him and he took it from her as if it were made of barbed wire. She swung the green scarf around her own neck and smiled sweetly at him. He raised an incredulous brow at her, thinking on how the emerald green complemented her eyes rather nicely and reluctantly placed his own over his shoulder.

"I thought you weren't a sporty person either. I don't think this lot will be singing 'Sweet Caroline' in the stands."

Her brow furrowed and she looked at him cautiously. "How… How do you know about that?"

Severus's stomach dropped. He remembered suddenly that she'd told that story when he'd been spying on her session with the MMAP, he himself hidden from sight in a sulk. "You...uh… you told me on the train." he replied, hoping her recent forgetfulness would work in his favour this time.

"Oh…" she said deflated, fiddling with the tassels of her scarf. "I don't remember that."

"It was… just something you said in pasing."

"Hmm…"

She wandered past Severus with her eyes cast to the ground. The dusk was beginning to creep in and the excited voices of witches and wizards alike were anticipating the coming match. It would be beginning soon and people were already starting to make their way over to the stadium, their faces painted with green and red. There was a pervasive smell of beer to the campsite and various groups were getting a little rowdy as they pumped themselves up for the match, jostling and shouting at one another.

"God, it's like Glastonbury…" Circe said as they approached the red tent. "Only less muddy." They entered the space and the inside was huge, much bigger than the shape outside would have led them to believe. It was easily big enough to fit three hundred people, but the floor was covered almost wall to wall with beanbags. An older witch was on the stage, dressed in a plush purple velvet dress and more beaded necklaces than Circe could count, playing an instrument that looked something akin to a huge longbow, topped with a gold crested dragon figurine. A few people, sitting in beanbags here and there were dotted about, listening to her.

"Glastonbury Tor?" Severus asked over the noise of the witch's stringy playing. "The historical home of the wizard Merlin?"

"No, the music festival!"

"Oh for god sake…" Severus muttered. He was getting a little frustrated with all of the muggle things she would bring up and he was still startlingly ignorant about.

"Every young person's got to go to Glastonbury once in their lifetime… and have a questionable experience with light hallucinogens…"

"Circe!" Snape exclaimed.

"Oh chill out, I paid three pounds to have a go on a canister of laughing gas for five minutes! They were renting it out in a tent near the pyramid stage."

Severus rolled his eyes as Circe led him to the backstage area. Again, she was waved through without a hitch and Severus was explained away as her 'PA'. He bristled a little at the implication that he was her personal assistant, but it enabled him to stay close to her for the time being, so he bit his tongue. She found her way through the off-duty performers and was soon accosted by Myron Wagtail, waving her over from a couch where he was sandwiched in between two young-looking blonde witches. He was clad almost head to toe in red leather, his shirt open all the way down to his navel.

"Cee, you made it! My message on your hand stayed put then. I was worried when you missed our sound check, darling…" he stood up to greet her and gave her two pert pecks on the cheek.

"Yeah, I'm sorry Myron. It's my bloody head."

"Still feeling a bit "skittish"?"

"Um.. yeah a bit."

"Ah… Still, at least you remembered to dress for the occasion. I love _this!"_ Myron said, touching the sleeves of her afghan coat. "Is it the real article?"

"It was my Mum's." Circe repeated. "Thought it might look nice to wear on stage."

"It's delicious. Very boho chic."

Circe laughed and looked back to Snape behind her. "That's exactly what you said." she grinned at him. Snape smiled nervously, not quite sure where to look in between the blonde girls on the sofa, Myron's bare chest and the flowing booze and fag smoke that permeated the air around him.

"Oh, Cee… Is this who I think it is?" Myron purred, stepping towards Severus.

"Umm, Myron this is Severus Snape, my _colleague_." She said, labouring over her final word. Snape caught the slight tug on Myron's arm that Circe enacted as he passed by. "Severus, this is Myron. He's our lead singer. We met in Hogwarts. Same year, same House."

"You were also a Ravenclaw?" Severus asked, a little surprised.

"For my sins, I was." Myron replied, eyeing up Snape hungrily. "I just liked learning about all the wrong things." he winked at him. The blonde girls at his back giggled.

"When are we on?" Circe asked quickly before Severus turned any redder.

"Not until after the match. Performers have also been given their own Private box! I found these beautiful creatures trying to bargain two tickets from a con man in the pub on the Moor." Myron sat back down in between the blonde girls and they squealed in delight as he wrapped his arms around them. "It seems you too have brought somebody to keep you company." he said to Circe with a wicked grin.

Severus shifted uncomfortably in his boots and Circe felt like she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. She shuffled around and muttered something about going to check her guitar, wishing she'd not said a bloody word to Myron about her feelings for Severus. She should have known he'd think of some eloquent and razor-sharp witty way to embarrass her. When she'd gathered her courage and had returned back to Severus, he was now the one sat in between the two blonde girls whilst Myron poured another round of firewhiskey for their guests. She laughed, marvelling at how utterly out of place he looked, his discomfort present in the tight hunch of his shoulders as the girls mercilessly flirted with Myron and the other band members. She grabbed her own glass and strode over to where Myron had placed the bottle, aching for anything that might restore her bravery, even if it came in liquid form. She filled her glass and topped up Sevreus. He looked up at her gratefully and one of the blonde girls stood to make room for her. He raised his glass, fixing her with a dark stare.

"I'm sorry… I didn't expect all of this to be so-"

"Rock-and-roll?"

Circe laughed awkwardly, looking at her glass. "That phrase...from your mouth, Severus…It's so oddly surprising to hear you say."

""Yes, well… you have a way of making me surprise even myself. Never in my wildest dreams would I have envisioned myself here, with all of this..." he waved vaguely about the room. _And with you._ He thought, drawing slightly away from her. He had to work harder these days to check his feelings. Finding himself unconsciously aching to be close to her, but his conscious mind wished he could keep her at a distance.

Severus was still, in part, processing her disappearance last year. It had shaken him just how deeply he had been affected when she was gone. He was inconsolable when she was believed missing. It frightened him just how much of himself he lost when she was believed dead. Those four days that had passed by in a horrible nightmarish haze were permeated only by his animalistic drive to find her. When the initial elation at her return had passed, he'd found himself being a little more guarded and cautious with how close he allowed her. He knew it was a backstep, and he was regressing back into his tendency to push those he loved away. But he remembered all too well the crippling pain he'd felt when her presence was stripped away from his life. He loathed that he'd allowed himself to fall for her. He didn't want to depend on her. He didn't want to love her. If he lost her in the way he'd lost Lily, in the way that he'd violently, sickeningly feared in those long four days, then he didn't know what would happen to him. He'd barely survived Lily. Losing Circe would kill him.

Circe saw the ghost of the memory of that "bad dream" pass over his features. _I wish I could figure out how to wake you up._ She thought again. _God, my own head feels like I'm somewhere in between sleeping and awake on those bad "skittish" days._ "Well, cheers to that." she said finally with a raise of her glass. "To all your dreams being made."

Severus looked at her from over the rim of his glass and swiftly downed it. He let the burning liquid fall down his throat and for a second he felt like he could breathe fire, like he could tackle anything life threw at him as long as this woman was held in his gaze. Circe followed suit and the firewhiskey warmed her belly.

As Circe, Myron, Severus and the rest of their little cohort, staggered their way over to the performer's private box, the roar of the crowd swelled. The stadium was massive, a huge pit dug into the ground at least two hundred feet deep . Circe was gobsmacked. As she pressed her way to the front of the stands she felt a dizzying state of vertigo seize her as she looked all the way down to the stadium's floor.

"My God, Severus… This is incredible. Puts that baseball stadium in New York to shame." The wave of thousands of tiny flags and the glitter of the spectator's camera flashes going off made it seem like the stands were shivering. As the Irish and the Bulgarian teams flew into the stadium, accompanied by a thousand screeches of elation, Severus couldn't help but have his spirits lifted. Not even he had seen a magical gathering of this magnitude before. His eyes were dazzled by the Irish firework Leprechaun in the sky and his ears rang with the battle-drums that heralded Krum and the rest of the Bulgarian team.

As the referee's whistle heralded the start of the final of the Quidditch World Cup, Severus felt a tapping on his shoulder.

"Well, well, well, look who we have here." A posh voice lilted over the roar of the crowd. Circe felt the hairs on her arms stand up and she turned around with Severus.

"Lucious." Severus answered flatly. Malfoy smiled coldly at Severus and Circe both.

"Ah, Professors." A similarly sumptuous voice said from behind Malfoy's long robes. Draco's snide little face peered round his father and grinned.

"Oh, God…" Circe muttered.

"You know…" Malfoy Senior began "Draco turned to me during the match and said "Father, I do believe that's Professor Smith in the adjacent box to us, leaning over the banisters and screeching like banshee". And I said "Oh no, Draco, it can't be. A respectable woman like Professor Smith would never wear something so hideous. She'd look like a hairy blonde rat if she did"."

Circe tugged at her afghan coat again as her anger bubbled away in her stomach. "Oh Lucious, put those claws away. I wouldn't want you to mess up your hair in a cat fight." Circe replied icily.

"And then Draco said…" Lucious continued, barely acknowledging her. ""But Father, I believe that's Professor Snape behind her", and goodness me he was right."

"Is there something I can help you with, Malfoy?" Snape asked as he looked sharply down his nose at the silvery haired man.

"Do you know… great spectacle of entertainment as this match is, I was just as surprised to see a dead woman and her walking shadow." Lucious looked pointedly at Circe and then to Severus, both feeling like they'd had a knife slid in between their ribs.

Circe bristled and she felt Snape too tense up at the comment. "I think you'll find, Malfoy, that I am very much _alive_."

"Yes, I heard about that nasty business last year with the half-breed and the murderer. You were on rather good terms with the half-breed monster were you not?"

"His name is Remu-"

"Asking for trouble hanging out with sorts like that, weren't you… No wonder the Ministry pretty much wrote you off as a dead woman after a few days searching."

Circe strode forward, ready to give Malfoy a hearty biff on the nose. Snape held her back by the arm as Lucious tutted.

"Dear, dear… asking for trouble aren't you. Rather enjoy getting yourself into dangerous situations. Ticking off the wrong people… You should be careful, Professor Smith."

"And what does that mean, Malfoy? A threat?" she asked as Snape's grip on her grew tighter

"Threat? Me? Never. I just thought that Severus, by now, may have gotten you on side. Perhaps you were starting to see the low lifes and degenerates that you insist on cavorting with for what they are. Severus was never much of a recruiter back in the day though, were you?"

"What? What are you talking about?" Circe asked, looking at Severus. Snape suddenly let go of her arm. His wrist suddenly pulsating dully beneath his black sleeve.

 _No.. it can't be…._ Severus gasped and touched a finger to the Dark Mark. Lucious did the same, mirroring his movement with a knowing stare. He tugged at his sleeve to disguise the move and Circe was none the wiser.

"Looks like you may have to try a little harder for you and her to see… eye to eye." Lucious said with a wink of his eye. "Perhaps a few more nights in the close quarters of the Potion's storage cupboard, eh?"

Severus said nothing, deeply mortified. Circe too was a little embarrassed but she tried not to let the Malfoy's see it. Lucious and Draco turned and left as swiftly as they arrived. And for the rest of the match, Severus stood at the back of the box as stoically as a suit of armour. She could sense that Malfoy's comments had rattled him. He thought over the conversation as tried in vain to concentrate on the Quidditch game. Was he really becoming her shadow?

 _My God, Malfoy thinks I'm trying to seduce her into the Death Eater's ranks…_ he thought as a shiver ran down his spine. He unconsciously clutched at the faded Dark Mark on his wrist and fidgeted uncontrollably. _The closer she gets to me, the more danger she's in. If he's returning… if Voldemort's really out there somewhere..._ He thought somberly as he stared at Circe's back. _God, what am I doing here. This can't happen…_

He turned on his heels and left.

Circe sensed his departure, feeling that his eyes were no longer on her. She didn't want to turn around and confirm what she suspected, but when she did, she saw Severus was gone. She pushed through the other entertainers in the box and rushed out after him. Circe called out after him as she rushed through the stands, but every time she rounded a corner she saw his boots disappear out of sight. She chased him all the way out of the stadium in this fashion, until they were outside. The campsite was deserted, everybody in the stadium watching the final, so he was easy to spot amongst the tents.

"Severus!" she shouted. He finally halted in his tracks and turned to face her.

"I can't stay, Circe. I don't really belong in places like this…"

"Severus, don't let what Malfoy said get to you-"

"This is bigger than Malfoy. The rot runs deeper than him. The same rot that's in me…" he said, looking to the ground mournfully. "People that have done what I've done don't deserve-"

"To live?" she asked, exasperatedly. Circe stared into his eyes imploringly. "Severus, please stay. I.. I want you here…"

"What you want and what's the safest course of action for you are two entirely different things. Surely you must know that your… association with me puts you in harm's way."

"You sound just like Malfoy." she said quietly, edging closer to him. "Malfoy doesn't know anything. Malfoy doesn't know anything about me or you. About me _and_ you…"

That made him look at her. Circe's breath was taken away again by the shadows his passionate eyes cast.

"I don't know what you're talking about." he tried to say as nonchalantly as he could. Meanwhile his heart pounded in his chest.

"Oh for fuck sake Severus. It's been three years!" Circe's patience snapped. She felt like the floodgate of her emotions was opening up. Everything she'd been aching to say, that had sat on the cusp of her lips for so long, was threatening to spew forth. _Three years of furtive glances and lingering touches. Three years of fiery arguments and tantalisingly interrupted moments alone._ _So much for waiting for him to "wake up" again..._ She sucked in her breath and whispered to him "Surely, you must know-"

"Don't. Don't say it." he interrupted her suddenly.

"Why not?"

"Because I can't give you that... I can't give you what you want."

Her eyes filled with tears as she refused to break her gaze with him. "Why? Because you don't feel the sa-"

"Because I promised you once that I would keep you safe, even if it cost me everything!" he shouted, edging close to her. "Even if it costs me _you…_ "

There was silence for a long while. Severus stood as rigid as a statue as he fought with everything in him to keep himself from running to her and taking her face in his hands.

"What? When did you promise me that?" Circe asked, deeply confused. But he did not reply. He turned from her and began striding off through the tents. "Severus, please…" she called after him. "Severus!"

But he did not halt, or turn around to face her again. He could not bear for her to see his moist eyes and he clenched his jaw tight to stop himself from crying out. If he stopped now, all his walls would come crashing down and he would run to her and kiss her until the morning light rose over the Dartmoor fens. And he couldn't have that… No matter how much his name on her lips tugged at his soul each time she called out desperately to him over the tents.


	33. "You ain't ever gonna burn my heart out."

Circe went through the rigmarole of the gig as if she were in a bad dream. She played, letting her fingers take over without much conscious input from her mind, whilst her head went over and over and over what Severus had said to her before he left. The stage lights shone in her eyes, bathing her in colour and heat. The crowd were jumping and screaming and singing along to the music. But she was only present in body. In spirit, she was still screaming out over the tents, begging Severus to come back. She felt sorry for anybody watching her that night; she was as wet as a damp dish cloth. Myron had tried to jimmy some life into her by swinging his arm around her and trying to get her to hop in on the singing every now and again as he was known to do when they performed. But she felt awful. She just wanted to play the gig, cut her losses, and go home. Myron had, of course, given her a bit of a bollocking back in the Green Room, for being about as charismatic as a brick but he'd come to a sudden halt in his diva tantrum when she burst into tears.

"Ah Cee, fuck him… he's not worth it."

"Why does it feel like I've just been broken up with…? By a man I was never… you know...with?!" She asked, laughing disbelievingly.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, I want to get shit-faced."

"Correct answer."

Myron had ushered Circe into his private tent, leaving the blonde girls he'd picked up feeling a little put out, left behind in the backstage area. Circe had tried to convince him to leave her to her wallowing and go entertain his lady friends, but he'd waved her concerns away, saying "Misery loves company. And I think the one with the mole on her left cheek had her eye on the bassist from 'Love Potion No. 9'..."

Circe tutted, knowing that Myron was probably making it up to make her feel better. He really was a good friend, dropping everything and anyone else when he knew she was upset. He produced another bottle of whiskey from under his sleeping bag and passed the whole thing to her. She unstoppered it and took a hearty swig.

"I don't feel miserable. I feel…angry." Circe muttered as she sat on his camping bed, tearing chunks out of the grass beneath.

"Give him time, Cee. He's obviously working through some shit." Myron took the whiskey and matched her generous glug.

"I've given him three years, Myron. Three years of pining after him! But it's not even that. It's that he doesn't trust me to be able to look after myself. Treating me like I'm a child who doesn't know any better. Like I can just choose to stop… feeling for him."

Myron sat down next to her and rubbed her shoulders comfortingly.

"Cee, I've never been one for all of this "eggs-in-one-basket" thing. I've always been more a "different-ditty-in-each-different-city" sort of bloke. But this is what you're gonna do: you're gonna get catastrophically trolleyed with me tonight, then you'll write a sad poem in your journal, and then you're gonna _forget about him._ " He gave her a hearty punch on the arm and she reluctantly smiled. "For now, anyway."

"For now?! He was pretty clear that I should stay away from him indefinitely!"

"Nah. Let him come back to you. Cee, I wish I could slip inside your mind and show you…" Myron said with a wistful look in his eye.

"What?" She asked curiously.

"How he looked at you. Earlier, before the match. I don't think I've ever felt that strongly for anyone to look at them like he looked at you. You know, when you were sitting on that green room sofa together. It ain't over with you and him. That I do know."

"And if he doesn't come back?" She asked, her eyes clouding over with tears as she looked to Myron with a hopeless glance.

"Well, then you know what they say, Cee. Don't be angry cause it ended, smile because it happened."

"Nothing bloody happened though. That's the thing…" she grumbled, taking another swig of whiskey.

There was a loud noise outside of the tent and both Circe and Myron flinched.

"Ha, it sounds like the Irish aren't being gracious winners."

Circe frowned deeply as the sound of smashing glass and shouts accompanied the noises beyond the tent's walls. "God, it sounds like they're about to start a riot…" Circe mused, as she rose to inspect.

"Nothing like a bit of rock 'n' roll to get the blood flowing. Mods vs rockers. Brighton. 1964…" Myron stood up briskly and sent a few punches into the empty air.

"You? In a fight? You're more of ballet than boxing, aren't you?"

"Oh, clearly you don't remember Mykonos, 1988…"

"I remember when you got your arse handed to you, outside that club, by those German backpackers. If that's what you mean."

"They weren't fighting fair, they used biological warfare..."

"They were holding a kebab, Myron!"

As the two of them pulled back the tent's door, they froze, their faces dropped open in horror. There was fire everywhere. People running and screaming, trying desperately to get clear of the blaze that was ripping through the campsite. Circe saw through the flames and the smoke the steady march of a group of entirely black-clad wizards, their faces covered by masks. She gulped. She'd seen masks like that in the papers a long time ago…

_Death Eaters._

In the sky above them, Circe saw an elderly man and a woman suspended by what looked like a network of invisible strings. They hung there, in twitching pain, screaming in terror as the Death Eaters kept them suspended above the horror they wrought below.

"Shit, Cee. That's the muggle farmer who owns this joint!" Myron said beside her, pointing into the sky. "And his wife, by the look of it."

"Run to the red tent and tell the others to get out of here." Circe said with a fierce determination.

"Why? Where are you going?"

Circe delved into her coat pocket and drew out her wand. "I'm gonna show these pricks that I'm more than capable of keeping _myself_ safe, without Severus's help…" she muttered. Circe ran into the fray, leaving Myron screaming after her.

She moved through the fleeing wizards with a fierce determination. The Death Eaters were veering off in another direction to her, dragging the muggle farmer and his wife with them. Circe was not going to let them out of sight, but it was becoming increasingly hard to keep track of them as person after person ran into her, pushing her from pillar to post.

"Professor!" A familiar voice called out to her. She wheeled around behind her and saw Hermione, Ron, Ginny and the Twins.

"Kids! Keep going _that_ way." Circe shouted, pointing towards the woods on the edge of the campsite.

"But Professor, it's Harry." Ron said imploringly. "We lost him."

"I'll find him. Just keep going, all of you!"

The Gryffindors did as they were told and went running off to the safety of the forest. Circe turned around again and almost screamed aloud as she failed to find sight of the Death Eaters. She took off in the general directions of the screams of pain, hoping she'd be able to help the poor muggle farmer and his wife. But from over the panicked screams and shouts, she heard someone speaking in a language she didn't recognise. Circe looked around her and saw a pair of young pre-teen boys calling out into the mass of fleeing wizards. They were dressed almost head to toe in burgundy red, their faces smeared in paint. She ran to them, asking if they were alright, but they looked back at her with vacant faces.

"Do you… do you speak English?" She asked.

They shouted back at her in their own language with frightened eyes, and Circe thought it sounded vaguely Slavic.

_Look at them Circe, they're Bulgarian._

"You… you need to leave!" She said, pointing towards the trees. The boy closest to her shook his head violently and started chattering alarmingly fast.

"Brat mi. Tryabva da namerya brat si..!"

"No, you don't understand. There's danger. You need to-"

A red, fizzing curse passed over Circe's head and she crouched low, dragging the two Bulgarian boys down with her. She turned around in time to see a lone Death Eater, a faceless shining mask of chrome and wearing a tall pointed black hat, aiming his wand at her. Circe gasped, grabbing for the Bulgarian boys and shoving them behind her.

"Crucio!" the Death Eater shouted again and Circe was swift enough to block the curse this time. The Bulgarian boys behind her huddled close to her back and she kept a hand firm on them. She adjusted her stance and took a deep breath, preparing for a duel. The Death Eater flung another curse at her and she blocked it swiftly.

"Expelliarmus!" she returned, but the Death Eater blocked her disarming spell with ease. She hadn't dueled anyone properly since the demonstration with Severus, and she couldn't afford to be as reckless as she had then. If she fluffed a block or took a risk, the Bulgarian boys at her back might pay the price. For some reason, her mind thought of Severus's signature bluebell flame and how he'd used it against her in their duel. That cold fire that was so unique and so uncommon, that stung with sadness and enveloped you with hurt. If she used it, it might just take the Death Eater by surprise.

"Kampanoulia Flamaria!" she shouted, and Circe felt the spell drawing on her recent unhappiness, ironically stemming from Severus himself. It liked to feed on her misery, and she let it channel directly into the startling blue flame that spewed forth from her wand. The Death Eater was taken aback, awash in the bluebell fire. But he soon broke the torrent of azure fire with a wave of his wand, and looked to Circe with a menacing growl. She gasped, trying desperately to think how she could get the boys to safety so she could fight in earnest. But then, another spell whizzed over her head again, this time from the opposite direction from where the Death Eater stood. It collided with the Death Eater, and another one came, and another and another, until he was hard pressed to defend himself from the barrage of disarming spells being railed against him. He eventually gave up, pulling his huge black cloak around him and disappearing with a loud pop. Apparated away.

"Circe!" a femenine voice called out from the direction of where her saviour had come from.

"Tonks?" she called back as the Bulgarian boys began to cry. Sure enough, from out of the burning tents and smog stepped a shock of pink hair.

"Are you all alright?" she asked, rushing to her friend.

"Yes, I think so. Are the Aurors here already?"

"The First-Responders, yes. More to follow soon."

"Dimo! Aleksi!" another voice called out to them. The Bulgarian boys looked out towards the voice with a cry.

"Viktor! Tuk sŭm!" they were about to run off again, but Circe grabbed on to their arms swiftly.

"Oh no you don't!" she scolded, fixing them with a stern gaze. But before they could shout at her in something she didn't understand, from out of the chaos stepped a young man in a Bulgarian Quidditch kit whom Circe recognised instantly as the man of the match: Viktor Krum. She let go of the young boy's arms in shock and they went running to him. The one who had spoken to her was enveloped in a relieved hug by the Seeker. When he let go of the young boy, after he'd stopped crying with relief, he turned to Circe and spoke in broken english, "You help my brother?"

Circe was a little star struck. The young man was broad shouldered and blessed with straight lines and clean features. His large, dark eyebrows gave the look he fixed Circe with an incredibly arresting affect.

"Your brother…" she breathed. Soon the Bulgarian Seeker was joined by another older man, who looked equally as dark and europeanly swarthy. He could have been an older incarnation of Viktor as he sported the same clean, straight nose and deeply inspective eyes. But unlike the young man, he possessed an impressively long beard, streaked with a few greys here and there. He spoke to the boy in their language, and he back to him. Krum pointed to Circe and the older man finally looked at her.

"Mister Krum would like to thank you for helping to protect his little brother from harm." the older Bulgarian said in heavily accented english.

"No problem…" she replied weakly. Krum stepped forward and shook her hand strongly. Circe smiled at him and shook back. He did not return her smile. "God, the kids at Hogwarts won't believe this when I tell them I met you…" she laughed awkwardly.

"Hogwarts?" the older man asked.

"I teach there."

"What is your name?" the older man asked with a probing raise of his large, bushy brow.

"Professor Circe Smith."

"Headmaster Igor Karkaroff of the Durmstrang Institute." he too took Circe's hand and shook it with a considerably firm grip. "I believe we are going to be working in collaboration this year, Professor."

"Um… what?"

"Surely Headmaster Dumbledore has told you of the plans for the Tri-Wizard tournament?"

"Oh! God, that's this year, is it?" Circe asked. She remembered when the Tri-Wizard tournament had come around when she was in school, and she'd been lucky enough to spend part of the year studying in France. Although she'd been forced to go home early after a bit of an incident with a Beauxbattons girl…

Her memories were shunted away to the background of her mind when the sky suddenly illuminated in a sickly tinge of green. Everyone looked up into the darkness, mouths hanging open with surprise. Circe felt sick to her stomach as the Dark Mark lit up the night sky.

"Oh God…"

Karkaroff turned a strange shade of lime as he looked up at the effigy of the skull and the snake. He muttered something in Bulgarian but Circe could tell it was probably some kind curse or expletive. Soon, more Ministry Aurors found them, bringing Arthur Weasley, Barty Crouch and Fudge himself to the scene. Circe sighed with relief when she saw Harry amongst them as well. All of their faces were bathed in the awful viridescent light from the Dark Mark in the sky. Tonks scanned the faces amongst them, looking for someone, and her face fell into a mask of worry as she failed to find who she sought.

"Oh, Harry. Thank goodness. Ron and Hermione were looking for you. Are you alright?" Circe asked.

"Please do not talk to the suspect. He is under suspicion…" Crouch said to Circe with a chastising wave of his finger.

"Suspicion? Suspicion of what?"

"He was found at the scene of the crime." Crouch's eyes darted up into the sky and then back to a flabbergasted Harry.

"Wha… you don't think….?"

"It wasn't me, there was a man!" Harry said suddenly.

"A man?" Arthur asked, laying a comforting hand on the boy. "What did he look like, Harry?"

"I dunno... It was hard to see. Thin, pale, lots of hair on his head… uhh blonde."

Crouch stiffened slightly at Harry's description, and with a dismissive and authoritarian wave, he instructed Arthur to take him and rejoin his own children in the forest. The other Ministry Aurors continued their searching and Circe was left again with Tonks and the Bulgarians. As Igor and Krum talked in hushed whispers with one another, Circe saddled up to her friend's side and tugged on her sleeve.

"Karkaroff.. why do I know that name, Tonks?" she whispered to her, all the whilst eyeing up the Durmstrang Headmaster as she puzzled away.

"Well if he hadn't been standing right next to me, I might have suspected _he_ was the one who cast the Dark Mark."

"What do you mean?"

"He's an ex-Death Eater, Cee. The Wizengamot only let him out of Azkaban cause he agreed to give up a few names."

"Shit… _he_ was the one who implemented-"

"Your mate." Tonks interrupted with a cheeky wink of her eye.

"Severus is _not_ my mate." Circe responded sourly.

"Oi, oi. Trouble in paradise?" Tonks asked teasingly. "Here's me thinking you weren't returning my calls coz you were busy with him."

"Fuck!" Circe exclaimed, raising her hand to her face. ""Tonks call back"! That's what it said!"

Tonks looked at her friend with a concerned face. "Bloody hell, Myron said you were a bit forgetful these days."

"I'm sorry, mate. It's uh… it's been a bit of a strange summer."

"Well, we all have our moments, Cee. I just wanted to give you a heads up who Dumbledore's got to teach DADA this year."

"Who?"

"Moody."

"Moody, your mentor? Mad-Eye himself?"

"The very same. I thought I'd see him here actually… I've gotta say, I was just as surprised as you when I heard. I mean who'd wanna give up hexing bad bastards to teach a bunch of snot-nosed kids? No offense, Cee…"

"None taken. With the way things have been going at Hogwarts recently, it might actually be beneficial to have a properly trained Auror about."

Circe dragged her heels and walked along with Tonks for a while. She guessed she needed to find Myron and let him know she was okay. Her decision to run out after the Death Eaters had been a bit reckless, and no doubt he'd have something to say as some kind of armchair psychologist, telling her she didn't need to "prove" anything because of what Severus said.

 _Let's hope he managed to get the instruments out of the red tent before it caught fire._ Circe thought, imagining her rather flamboyant front man carrying both her and his guitar under his arms. _Perhaps those blonde haired girls came in handy after all._ She could still taste whiskey on her breath and she suddenly remembered that she was supposed to be feeling miserable. Circe hoped that the pub on the moors was still open.

"Hows … how's Remus?" Tonks asked suddenly, startling Circe out of her longing to drink her sorrows away.

"Well you tell me. You're closer to Grimmauld Place than I am." Circe had received a number of letters from Remus, with his return address being listed as the Black family home in London. She smiled, thinking of Black and Lupin together in that house, rekindling their old, long-buried feelings.

"Remus never went to Grimmauld Place, Cee." Tonks said gravely.

"What? He's been living with Sirius since the… since the…" her head went fuzzy as she struggled to utter the words _since the night he transformed in front of us._ "Black told me he was looking after him."

"Well, I don't know what happened, but that's not the case. I've gone by to call a few times and their horrible House Elf has slammed the door on me every time."

"He's not there?" Circe asked as cold worry began to pool in her stomach. "Then where is he?"

* * *

As a show of their thanks, the Bulgaians had offered Circe passage on their ship for the journey to Hogwarts. The Durmstrang boys were, in fact, all present at the Quidditch World Cup and had gone there to support Krum in his final match before journeying up to Scotland. Circe's rather generous present from Sirius still sat in her Dad's garage, and as she'd suspected, the price to insure the thing was more than she could afford. She'd told Remus in one of her letters to inform Black that she needed to return his gift to him, but Circe guessed from Tonks's revelations that the message had never been passed on. Karkaroff had shaken Circe's hand firmly again, with promises to meet her at the coast closest to her in two days time. Circe made sure she wrote the reminder on her hand in huge black marker pen, just to make sure she remembered.

Her Dad had driven her to Weston-Super-Mare, all of her things for the year piled into the back of his car. She'd asked him to look after her new Jaguar whilst she was away, and being a bit of a car-enthusiast he had agreed with not much grumbling. Matthew Smith was a worryer. He cast a quick look at his daughter as they beetled down the M5 whilst listening to the radio together. Circe had said something about hitching a lift with someone to get back to work, and Circe's work could only mean something… magical. Even after all these years, any mention of magic sent him into a bit of a light sweat. He liked his life orderly: from the simple yet effective outdoorsy clothes he was in the habit of buying, to the same short back and sides haircut he'd had since Circe was a young girl. He was a man of routine. Matthew enjoyed cars and quietly going into an empty room and reading about World War Two, not whizzing around all over the country off to watch "Quid-ball" or whatever his daughter did... He'd never once shouted in the whole of Circe's memory, but he certainly made his feelings known when there was something to have good old-manned whinge about. He shifted in the driver's seat and undid his North Face jacket a tad, just to let in a bit of air. Magic meant chaos and inexplicable things that he couldn't explain with logic and reason. Magic also meant he'd be reminded of Phoebe again. But still, he was willing to try and swallow down his uncomfortableness around magic if it meant spending a few hours more with his daughter before she went back to Scotland.

"You sure these Bulgarians are savory fellows?" Matthew asked his daughter over the sound of Tony Blackburn.

"Yes, Dad." she answered a little brusquely. "You remember when I went to France for a bit in my final year?"

"I do."

"Well, this is the _other_ school that was at that tournament. The Durmstrang Institute."

"Oh I see…". He didn't. "I could have bought you a train ticket, if you'd said-"

"It's not that, Dad. Muggle trains don't go all the way to Hogsmeade anyway…"

 _Muggle…_ Matthew thought. _Phoebe used to say that word._ "Well… Jane's talking about a holiday up in Inverness at some point this side of Christmas. Send the boys off to their Dad's for a bit so we can get away. If you've got a bit of time, you could come and meet us. Show us around the Highlands."

"Yeah, I'd like that." Circe said with a smile. Matthew smiled back. "Not far now. Where am I going from here Circe?"

"Sand Bay." She responded, reopening the OS map her Dad always kept folded pristinely in his glove box. "About three miles down the coast from Weston. Nice and quiet."

They pulled into the car park overlooking the windswept and grey beach. It was a bit of a miserable day, overcast and cold, and the beach looked like something straight out of an Afred Hitchcock film. Matthew placed the last of Circe's bags on the sand and turned to his daughter with a warm smile. He spread his arms and she enveloped him in a hug.

"Bye, Dad." she said quietly. "Say goodbye to Alec and Tom for me too."

"I will, darling. Look after yourself. You haven't been quite right since you came home this summer."

"Dad, I'll be okay. I promise. Stop fretting."

"I know, but you had me and Jane sick with worry when that Professor Mcgoogle or whatever wrote and told us that she'd not seen you for a few days. What happened there, darling?"

Circe frowned. Her dad hadn't pressed her about those four days. Luckily Minerva had only written to him on the third day of her disappearance and she'd reappeared the next. She couldn't bear the thought of her Dad sitting in his quiet-room armchair, unable to go to bed, fretting over her.

"It was a… bad night out. Had a cracker of a hangover and forgot to tell her I was recovering at a mate's is all."

"Circe, you've never been that irresponsible before…"

"Listen, Dad. It was a bad series of events. I made a few mistakes and it got me into a bit of bother. But I'm alright, Dad. No harm done to anyone in the end, so you don't need to worry about me."

"Alright, you're a big girl now." Matthew said with a huff. "But I'm always gonna be your Dad, so I'll never stop worrying about you."

Circe smiled as the wind whipped at her bronze curls.

 _So like your mother…_ Matthew thought as he turned to leave.

"Might go and get a fish supper by the promenade before I head home." he called back to her over the roar of the wind.

"I'll write to you, Dad." Circe said as she gave him one final wave.

Circe thought about asking him to stay and meet the Bulgarians. But based on what she assumed would be a fantastical vessel of unparalleled muggle equivalent, she reluctantly let him go. Matthew gave her one last wave, trying not to feel too bad that he was seemingly leaving his only daughter alone on a rather grim beach with all of her possessions in the sand around her.

His car pulled out of the car park and she was let utterly alone on the desolate beach. She looked to the cliffs at her left, and then to the rock pools on her right. She could just about see the burnt out remains of the old Weston-Super-Mare pier on the horizon, just around the bend of the coastline. And then, the ship burst from the waves. Circe flinched as the spray of the salty ocean erupted in a massive plume, and from the previously grey and tranquil waters a huge galleon, sporting three stout masts of glistening white sails honed into view. Dim, misty lights shimmered from the portholes like ghostly eyes embedded in the slick wet wooden exterior, and the ship came to a bobbing halt as Circe caught her breath. A few moments later, a small crew had rowed to the coast in a little lifeboat. The all-male crew approached her and nodded to her with a curt bow, amongst them was Krum himself.

"We take your things?" he said in his broken english. Circe nodded and the other young men gathered her belongings and hauled them into the boat.

"Is the little Krum still with you?" she asked Victor, looking around for the small pre-teen boys she'd defended from the Death Eater. "Dimo?"

"Ahh, Dimo go home. He no like England." Krum said, using his limited vocabulary.

Circe laughed and nodded. "No, can't say I blame him after what happened."

"Dimo and Aleksi also say big thank you." Krum said, picking up her trunk as if it was nothing. Circe scoffed and waved her hand. "Ahh there's no need to thank me."

"That very English." Krum said to her with a small smile. It was the first time she'd seen the stern faced boy smile. "English people spend all their time thanking and apologising. And then say "no need to thank me"!"

She laughed and nodded. "Yeah, we do do that, I suppose."

Together they rowed back to the ship and a long rope ladder dropped over the side of the hull for her. Circe steeled herself and began the long climb to the top, eventually stepping on to the deck of the ship where Karkaroff and the rest of the Durmstrang boys waited for her. Karkaroff shouted a single command word, and as one the boys stamped their feet and saluted her. The suddenness of it made Circe flinch again.

"H-hello." she replied a little unsurely.

"Professor Smith, welcome on board The Brizo." Karkaroff said with his heavy Slavic accent, extending a hand out to her. "Allow me to show you to your quarters."

"Quarters?" Circe asked with a smile.

"Why of course. Our guest of honour deserves only the finest suite during our voyage." Circe allowed him to lead her through the ship and down into its boughs, all the while feeling the eyes of every Durmstrang boy on her.

"Brizo. That's not Bulgarian, is it." Circe asked, having endeavoured to learn a few phrases of their language once she'd known she'd be journeying with them. "Greek isn't it?"

"You are a learned woman, Professor Smith." Karkaroff replied, looking back at her with his dark, bushy brows. "Brizo was the Greek goddess of sailors and fishermen. This boat was once a sunken wreck, downed during the failed invasion of the Spanish Armada, I believe. But my predecessor acquired it some years ago for our school's business."

"So a Spanish galleon, named after a Greek deity, manned by Bulgarians…" Circe replied with a smirk.

"And an English mascot." He laughed.

"Oh a _mascot_ now, am I? Here's me thinking I was the "guest of honour"."

Karkaroff laughed, low and strong, as he pushed open a door. He motioned Circe inside and she looked around her cabin with wide eyes. It looked like it would once have been the Captain's suite; it was fitted with a stout writing desk in the center of the room, behind it a huge domed window that looked out over the sea. A small single bed was built snugly into the wall on the left and a huge mapping globe was on the right. She walked over to the globe and spun it on its axis, smiling from ear to ear.

"You like it?" Karkaroff asked.

"It's wonderful." Circe said, as the boys from the lifeboat began to place her things inside the room.

"Dobre!" Igor said in Bulgarian. "We set sail at once!" He swept from the room with a confident stride and Circe stood before her window as she listened to the sound of the boat getting ready to dive once more. She heard the whistles above her and the running and shouting of the Durmstrang boys on the deck above her. Then it all went quiet, and the sound of their footsteps receded until they too were stored safely below deck. And almost in the blink of an eye, Circe watched the murky waters of Sand Bay rise over her window and swallow the boat whole, until they were completely underwater.

The hours passed as the galleon cut soundlessly through the teaming British waters. Circe spent those first wonderful moments of the dive with her face pressed against her glass window, watching the flotsam and jetsam float by. She'd even seen a huge-mouthed basking shark wriggle past her at one point. Eventually when the light fell and all Circe could see was an impenetrable blackness from her window, she reluctantly decided to get up and go exploring. As she walked down further into the boughs of the ship, she heard a calamity of voices all speaking in Bulgarian, accompanied by the clatter of plates and cutlery. She poked her head around a door to see a huge mess-hall, made of a heavy, dark wood and lined with several long tables. The Durmstrang boys were busy laying spaces at the benches and placing steaming hot clay pots of food on its surface, all doing their duty to prepare for dinner. A few of them looked up from their chores to give her another polite click of the heels and a bow, and Circe did her best not to blush too hard. She walked inside and inspected the pots of food as the boys began to take their seats at the table. Whatever they were serving, it smelt delicious. Krum was at her side before she realised he was present, inviting her to sit down with him and heaping a large portion of the food onto a plate for her.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Gyuvech." he replied. "A… beef stew?" he asked, looking to his classmates for help with his English words. She thanked him as he placed the plate in front of her and the rest of the boys began ladling out their own portions. She saw a couple of them sprinkling on some grated white cheese from another bowl and she too followed suit and topped her gyuvech with it. The boys all stood up in unison when Karkaroff entered the mess hall, sitting down again only when the Headmaster prompted them to do so. He took his seat at the other end of the hall and Circe watched him closely as he talked and communed with his students. He reminded her of Severus in that dark, mysterious sort of way. Not to mention that they were both convicted Death Eaters and she began scolding herself for being maybe a bit too personable with him earlier. Still, Death Eaters were known to be charming. Was it any wonder that, perhaps despite her conscious intentions, Karkaroff had rather gotten her to like him? Yet she still wished that the charismatic Headmaster would take his contented and amiable look off his face; it didn't seem right that a man who'd been an ally of the Dark Lord was allowed happiness now. Yet she felt hypocritical thinking that; hadn't she said almost the complete opposite to Severus? But she could spend her whole evening, her whole life allowing the past to burn away at her heart. Someone out there clearly trusted Karkaroff enough to allow him to be a guardian of children. Or was that what he wanted her to believe? It was all rather confusing. The Headmaster locked eyes with her and she nodded back to him politely. He grabbed his goblet and stood up, the rest of the Durmstrang boys following. Circe did the same, hurriedly grabbing her own goblet.

"A toast, to our English good-luck mascot." Karkaroff said as he raised his glass.

"Toct!" the boys shouted in unison and Circe smiled politely, raising her goblet. She drank and was a little surprised when a sumptuous red wine hit her lips. It was wonderful and rich and fruity, but she noticed the same liquid was in the students' cups too.

"Are you all drinking wine!?" she asked Krum.

"Of course." Krum replied with a befuddled look on his face.

"Oh… how very european."

* * *

Severus was waiting in the Great Hall, wishing Dumbledore would hurry up and round off his speech so the night could be brought to an end. The feast was passing by achingly slow without Circe and he wondered, not for the first time that evening, where she was. He hadn't spoken to or heard from her since the night of the Quidditch World Cup. He wondered, with a flutter of panic in his stomach, whether she had actually decided to hede his hasty warnings to her that night. But nevertheless, within himself he had been vindicated when he saw the Dark Mark plastered all over The Prophet the next day.

Still, Minerva and Dumbledore seemed unphased by her lack of presence and he decided to bite his tongue for the time being. Yet he felt the remnants of his tattered and bruised soul slipping back into oblivion the longer the night wore on and he didn't have her company. The entrance of the Beauxbattons girls went almost unnoticed by him and he was only yanked from his ruminations on the past when a butterfly charm fluttered irritatingly past his face. He batted away the insect with a wave and it dissolved away with a shimmer, leaving a glittery residue on his hand. Madame Maxime took her seat next to Hagrid at the Staff table and Severus once again settled back into his dark and brooding mood, cursing the past with every waking thought.

"And finally Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, quietening down the mass of students and excited boys with a wave of his hand, "I would like to introduce you to the young men of the Durmstrang Institute and their Headmaster, Igor Karkaroff."

 _Igor bloody Karkaroff,_ Severus thought as the doors for the Great Hall crept open again. _Just when I thought I was letting paranoia and past-ghosts get the best of me._

In strode the strapping Bulgarian boys, accompanied by those same war-like drums that he had heard at the beginning of the Quidditch match. They played out their introductory performance: the traditional Bulgarian lightning-staff dance accompanied by a particularly skilled student who ate fiendfyre and spewed it out into a soaring phoenix over the heads of Hogwarts students at their tables. The students exclaimed excitedly and clapped in delight, gasping in shock as in strode the world-famous Seeker Viktor Krum. Severus watched as Ron turned a strange shade of grey and almost fainted in delight. Snape rolled his eyes. Yet he could not control himself from gasping aloud too when in walked Circe with the remaining Bulgarians and their Headmaster.

She smiled coyly up at the staff table, dressed in a traditional Bulgarian fur hat and a massive floor-length black coat that many of the Durmstrang boys also sported. She looked windswept and dashing, several days at sea had given her almost a pirate-esque air of allure. Severus bristled with envy as she took Karkaroff's hand and she was lead up to the staff table as if she were his pirate Queen.

"Professor Smith!" Dumbledore said as she approached the table. "I hope that Karkaroff hasn't head-hunted you away from us. I hear Bulgaria is quite cold this time of year…"

Circe laughed as Igor took the Headmaster into a good-natured embrace.

"Ahh, our English mascot could weather the Bulgarian winters like a true native!" he shouted, gesturing back to Circe with a wink. "But alas, no. She has told me in no uncertain terms, whilst we have been at sea, that her heart is firmly set here in Hogwarts."

Circe coloured red slightly at his comment and moved to take her seat. Madame Maxime eyed her up cautiously. Circe locked eyes with the French Headmistress and gasped quietly as the lightning flash of recognition passed over the large woman's face. Maxime chimed in in her soft and delicate voice, "Ahh but I think Professor Smith left a little piece of her 'eart in France too, non?"

A titter rippled through the staff who were old enough to remember the incident Maxime referred to. Circe looked to her shoes and sat down in between Karkaroff and Severus feeling as red as a beetroot.

"What was that?" Igor asked her with a wicked grin.

"I'll tell you later..." she grumbled back to him. "Something embarrassing I did when I was a teenager…"

"I shall hold you to that, English." Igor said, pouring himself a generous helping of wine.

"Have you told me this story before?" Snape asked, summoning up all of his courage to speak to her. Circe's heart rate doubled. It wasn't quite enough of a "comeback" to prove Myron right, but it was interesting that he'd chosen to break the silence between them first.

_You can take that "I'm sorry" look of your face as well, Severus. After the way you shot me down like a fighter pilot and left me wanting to cut my own heart out._

Circe looked at Severus's hands, gripped a little too tightly around his cutlery, and she thought of her own little small revenge. "Oh look, if you're all so bloody interested…" she said, slamming her fork down on the table with a jolt. "Maxime caught me and…. another Beauxbattons girl- Odette was her name... together."

Severus's eyes bulged.

"Together doing what, I do not understand." Igor said in bemusement.

A thousand and one images passed through Severus's mind: Circe's full lips on top of another woman's. 'Odette' conjured up a raven-haired beauty, caressing Circe with deft fingers of delicate pale skin. Hot and sweaty, tangled together in some dark French broom-cupboard. Blouses open and hands down one another's skirts. He was fully erect before he could stop himself.

"Oh… OH!" Karkaroff exclaimed. "Ha! How do you say in English? In Sappho's embrace!?"

"Headmaster, shush!" Minerva chided, leaning over her plate with a finger pressed to her lips. "I don't think this is an appropriate conversation to be having here." Luckily, most of the students were busy munching away at their food, chatting about the various new arrivals.

Karkaroff laughed and returned back to his food. Circe inclined her head ever so slightly to Snape and whispered "Is something the matter, Severus?"

Snape was sweating quite a bit by this point. His groin ached with desire. He pressed his belly hard against the staff table to try and hide himself, but it was useless. If anyone had looked under the tabletop they would have seen the rock-hard manifestation of what was playing out in his mind's eye.

"I… Uhh… Excuse me…" he said in a fluster, rising from the table swiftly and disappearing through the side door before anyone could look too closely at him.

"Oh what a shame, he'll completely miss Barty's announcement…" Circe said, barely able to conceal her smile as the Goblet of Fire was wheeled in front of the entire school.


	34. "I gotta slow it right down. The day's moving just too fast for me."

The days were moving a little too fast for Circe. She was having another bad spell of "skittishness", ever since she'd received a letter from Tonks informing her that Remus had come by Grimmauld Place to retrieve his mail. She must have been staking the place out for quite some time as Circe couldn't really imagine that many people wrote to Remus aside from herself, and therefore he probably didn't have much need for collecting his letters too often. Nevertheless, Tonks had told her that she'd managed to corner Remus as he was leaving and managed to get out of him that he was currently living from hired bed to hired bed. No word over why the living arrangements between him and Black hadn't worked out. Or where he'd been staying over the summer.

The last letter from Tonks had come about a week ago, maybe… Circe was finding keeping track of time a little difficult. Once, she'd been walking past the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and had heard a group of students playing muggle music, and for a brief moment she thought it was last year. She'd only realised just how out of sorts her head was when she'd entered the classroom to see Mad-Eye Moody himself looking down solemnly over the gathered MMAP members as Cedric, yet again, fought off the other boys in the group from turning off 'Definitely Maybe'. That had shaken her. But she'd managed to compose herself quickly enough before the gathered MMAP members had come bounding over to her with a wide smile.

"Professor Smith! Are you here to tell Diggory to let someone else have a turn with their CD's? I think we've heard this one a thousand times now." Seamus Finnigan complained.

"I'll play it 'till you like it, Fourth Years!" Cedric shouted to him.

"I like it, Cedric." chimed in Cho Chang, Circe's star Seeker. The other girls in the group gave her little jealous stares.

"Kids… what are you still doing here? The Dementors left Hogwarts a long time ago…" she asked as the past fell back into place in her mind.

"Yeah well... We all enjoyed getting together and doing this so much that we decided to just, y'know, carry on." Finnegan said with a smile.

"And Mad-Eye-" Ron chipped in, but was stopped suddenly as Hermione poked him sharply in the ribs. "Sorry, Professor Moody said it was alright for us to still use his classroom. But I don't think he likes listening as much as Professor Lupin did".

Circe looked up to Mad-Eye, poised at the top of the office stairs, looking down on the gathering like a grotesque looming gargoyle. His fake eye spun in his head and the sudden, jolty movements of it made Circe feel a little nauseous. He nodded politely to her and she nodded her thanks back. Circe felt like that eye was looking into her very head. She turned around swiftly and strode from the room in a strangely upset mood, just as a group of Durmsrtrang boys were curiously hovering by the door of the classroom, inspecting the source of the music.

Teaching with the other students of Durmstrang and Beauxbattons around was making her busier than ever. Rather surprisingly, the foreign students were much more interested in her subject than the run of the mill Hogwarts student was, and Circe was quite pleasantly surprised to learn that runic was actually on the national curriculum for both the French and Bulgarian students. They were practically fluent and Circe found herself presenting them with much more challenging material than she would have done for her Hogwarts students. The Delacour girl in particular was a capable learner and had talked in detail to Circe of the letters she often received from her grandmother that were almost entirely written in runic. When Circe had asked why, Fleur had informed her of her Veela ancestry.

_Ahh, that's why all the boys have been practically drooling over you then._

Circe looked at her hand, and noticed a black message scrawled on her left thumb: " _Choosing ceremony, TONIGHT"._ Circe began to feel a little hysterical again. After her moment earlier with the MMAP, this was now too much; She thought that the Goblet of Fire choosing ceremony wasn't happening for a few more days. She ran from the castle, desperate for a quiet place away from the crowded corridors and chattering students where she could get her thoughts into order. Luckily it was a rather overcast day, so many of the students were busy inside. Circe ran down to the lake and threw herself under the old oak tree her and Severus had once laid under together in the golden days of summer. She took a few deep and calming breaths, trying to stop her hands from shaking as she threw off her coat to inspect her arms for any more forgotten messages. She scrunched up her sleeves and searched for any more black pen scratches, but there were no more. She sighed in relief.

 _What the bloody hell is wrong with me? I thought this would all go away when I got back here._ But it hadn't. It had been slowly getting worse. She tried to fob off the problem, as when the "skittish" period passed, she was as right as rain. And then she could be perfectly normal for weeks. But when something triggered her, and she began to forget again, it seemed to be going on for longer and she was forgetting increasingly more and more important things. Circe drew her legs up to her chest and buried her head in her knees.

She was drawn out of her self-pitying when Karkaroff's voice called to her from over the lake. She looked out across the water and saw the Headmaster waving to her, striding back into the castle grounds with a few of his Durmstrang boys. The Bulgarians liked to take long hikes through the hills and Igor had asked Circe's opinion on the best trails to follow, as she was also given to enjoying the outdoors. Circe suspected it was just an excuse to keep close to her and keep the familiarity he had established with her on the go. He'd made no secret of the fact that he planned to enter Krum into the tournament as the horse he'd personally chosen to back, and Circe supposed that Karkaroff was looking for allies in the castle who could be of use to him later. The Beauxbattons Headmistress, on the other hand, Circe had made pains to avoid out of sheer embarrassment. Madame Maxime was doing her best to torture her with hot chocolate and croissants left each morning in the staff room for all of the Professors to help themselves to. By the time the giant woman left the confines of the staff room, and Circe snuck in, they were mostly cold and uncrispy. Circe had been trying to summon up the courage to confront the woman who had, at one time, sent her packed off home after her indiscretion, but that had not quite happened yet. She was still a little bit scared of the woman, remembering all too well how the Headmistress had packed her belongings with a cold flick of her wrist and Odette too had received similarly icy treatment. Circe had hidden the letter from her Dad as soon as she'd made her way home, and it had still been lying on the kitchen table, embossed with the delicate blue crest of Beauxbattons, unopened. She'd later told him that she'd come home because she felt homesick, and Matthew hadn't questioned the matter further.

 _God, I wonder how Odette is?_ Circe mused. All the letters she had sent her French sweetheart back in the day had gone unanswered. _Perhaps I will ask Maxime what happened to her._

Severus had been very much MIA since the night of the feast. Circe had enjoyed watching his eyes pop as she strode in dressed like a Durmstrang boy. She'd been rather proud of her entry that night and had borrowed one of Karkaroff's coats and Krum had lent her his hat for the evening. Krum was a nice boy, if a little dim witted. But she'd grown quite a soft spot for many of the Durmstrang boys as they'd passed the voyage singing Bulgarian folk songs and teaching them how to play bridge in the boughs of The Brizo. And when Severus had looked ever so covetously at her as she'd taken her seat on the night of their arrival, she felt like she could have taken on the world. But since then, he had been nowhere near her. Circe didn't even know what she'd say to him if he did saddle up beside her. She was just emotionally exhausted by him. Yes, no, stay away, come here. How long could this ever changing dance go on between them? It was painfully ironic that through all of her forgetfulness, she could still remember everything he'd said to her that night at the Final with excruciating detail. Even though she was still irate at him, her heart still hoped against all the odds. _He didn't actually say that he had no feelings for me…_ Still, she would almost certainly see him tonight at the selection...

* * *

Dumbledore called a conference of all of the Hogwarts teachers _immediately_ after the selections that the Goblet of Fire had chosen. Circe walked alongside Mcgonagall, Severus, Flitwick, and Moody, a small elite selection of staff, to the Headmaster's office. No one said a word, all to dumbstruck for conversation. Circe let her mind wander as she listened to the uneven clicking of Moody's stick on the stones.

_Delacour, a bit of a surprise but the choice makes sense. She's a smart cookie._

_Krum, less of a surprise. Looks like Karkaroff backed the right horse after all._

_Diggory. Our Cedric, bright and beguiling. He'd be the one I'd put money on._

But as Circe approached the griffin statue that guarded the Headmaster's office, she found herself staring at Severus, and he at her. She could tell they were thinking the same thing:

_Harry. How the bloody hell did that happen?_

When the staff entered the Headmaster's office, the room was bathed in a shimmering blue light. Circe was the first to enter and she saw Dumbledore hunched over something that looked like a christening font that one might find in a church. He seemed to be entranced by the waters held within the font and as he placed his wand at his temple, drawing out a silvery strand from his head, Circe knew what it was.

"You have a Pensieve?" Circe asked, rousing Dumbledore from his attentive gazing into the waters under his hands. She strode forwards to inspect it, gasping in delight as she spied a selection of Saxon runes carved into the stone. If she was right, this item pre-dated the school itself. She'd read of the legend of the four Hogwarts founders finding a magical artefact buried at the site of what would become the school, always assuming that it was just that: a rumour. She looked to the glass cabinet at the Pensieve's side as the other staff filtered into the room. It was full of tiny, delicate glass bottles, all labelled with hand-written notes in a variety of different hands. _The memories of every single Hogwarts Headmaster since its founding…._

"Thank you for coming." Dumbledore started, ignoring her apparent interest in the Pensieve. "I have called you all here to confer following the revelations of the night."

"With no outsider influence, I see." Said Seveus, referring to the lack of the Bulgarian and French teachers. Circe had noted that too. This meeting had almost been called in secret, after the initial outrage over Potter's choosing had been aired. Snape did not hide the suspicious way he eyed up Circe.

"What are you looking at?" Circe asked antagonistically, but she didn't need him to clarify. He was obviously referring to her apparent close fraternisation with the Bulgarians. Moody let out a singular laugh as he looked from Snape to her.

"Oh stop it, you two." Minerva said with a tut. "We have bigger fish to fry tonight."

"It's worrying, Albus." Flitwick said with a grave shake of his head. "Very worrying."

"First the Dark Mark at the Quidditch World Cup, and now this." Minerva sighed. Her face looked worn and worried, startlingly drawn in the blue light that permeated the room.

"Strange things are afoot indeed." Dumbledore said as he ran a hand over the glass case of memories. "Things that many of us have seen before…"

"Well surely this can't go on. Headmaster? Albus?" Minerva called out to him with imploring eyes.

"And what do you suggest? You heard Crouch the same as I. Potter must compete."

"You must put a stop to it! Find a way!"

"Surely there must be something the Ministry can do. Try and lift the binding curse..." Circe asked, stepping to her friend's side as she sensed her deep unease. "On the grounds of Potter's age alone. He's a minor, people die in this tournament!"

"Did Karkaroff ask you to pursue that idea?" Snape asked her coldly. "Make sure one of Krum's competitors is taken out of the game?"

"Are you fucking serious, Severus?" Circe asked, going toe to toe with him. "And if anyone in this room was going to be particularly pally with Karkaroff, I'd have thought it would've been you!" Severus felt the colour drain from his face.

"Ha!" Moody boomed.

"Circe, language!" Minerva chastised.

"Severus, do you really suspect that Professor Smith is anything but completely loyal to her home here at Hogwarts?" Dumbledore asked Snape pointedly. Severus fell quiet as he cast a quick glance to Circe. She met his gaze as she silently seethed at him. He could see he'd spoken out of turn and he looked to his feet.

"No, Headmaster." he said bashfully. "But I do disagree with Professor Smith's and Professor Mcgonagall's sentiments."

"What do you mean?" Minerva asked. Circe looked at Snape intently, trying to suss out what he was up to. She bit her tongue for the time being, just in case she swore again and had to be told off by Minerva once more.

"These events cannot merely be coincidences. If we are truly to get to the bottom of what is going on, it might be prudent to simply… let things unfold."

"What?" Minerva asked Snape incredulously.

"Do nothing?!" Circe blurted out, unable to stay silent.

"You would offer Potter up as bait to lure whoever is behind this?!" Mcgonagall cried.

Circe stepped towards Snape, once again going toe to toe with him. Snape steeled himself and straightened his back, trying to do his best to block her wonderful scent from his nose and ignore just how close she was. As their argument raged, the rest of the world seemed to fall away around them, until it was just the two of them, in their own private gladiatorial arena.

"Potter is a young man, not a worm on the end of a fishing hook."

"The Goblet clearly thought that he was worthy enough to compete." he responded coldly.

"Oh so the magic cup said it was alright to leave an underage boy in harm's way…"

"That _magic cup_ knows infinitely more than you, Professor."

"So you just don't care about his safety then?"

"The safety of _all_ of my students is of the utmost importance to me."

"So you're just willing to look the other way for the son of James and-"

"Don't you dare say her name!" Severus roared.

"I will say whatever name I please!" she roared back. "Especially as _Lily Potter_ would have wanted to know that her son is in danger."

Silence fell. Circe could see the unfathomable anger and pain in Snape's eyes.

"I agree… with Severus." the Headmaster said finally. Circe blanched as she was wrenched back into the real world, back to the sudden realisation that there were others in the room, watching her and Snape duke it out.

"You… you what?" Circe asked, losing a large portion of respect for Dumbledore in that moment.

"Alistair, will you keep an eye on the boy?" Albus asked, again ignoring Circe's protestations.

"I can." Moody replied succinctly.

"We must all do our best to tend to our students in whatever ways we can. Dark and mysterious times lie ahead, and it is important that we are all _united_ behind our common aim."

"And what _common aim_ is that, Professor?" Circe asked bitterly.

"To find out who is truly behind these odd occurrences. Harry must be anxious as it is, I do not wish to put undue worry onto him."

Minerva waved her arms exasperatedly and turned to go. Flitwick and Moody followed her soon after but Snape lingered on a moment, staring daggers into Circe's back.

"Thank you, Severus. Me and Professor Smith need to have a small chat before the end of the night."

Severus shifted on his feet and bristled. He didn't like being dismissed like a lap dog, especially by Albus. But he eventually turned on his heels and skulked off, back to his dungeons. The Headmaster stepped in front of Circe, looking at her with an odd face as he broke her longing look, watching Severus dragging his heels as he left.

"I'm not going to apologise, Headmaster. I think you're wrong. And if that means that I have to give in my resignation-"

"There are things at play here that you do not understand, Professor." Dumbledore interrupted her.

"Oh, even more secrets? Even more decisions being made on my behalf?!" she said shortly.

"Severus wants only to protect you, Circe."

That made her stop, looking at her feet as she blushed. "I, uh… didn't realise we were talking about Snape, Headmaster."

"He hasn't shown you his patronus, has he." Dumbledore smiled coyly.

"I'm sorry? What does that have anything to-"

"Oh he was in a right little tizz when he came to see me about that last year. I won't spoil that surprise then." the old man muttered. Circe scoffed, bemused by the strange direction the conversation had turned.

"Last year when… when the Basilisk was attacking students?"

Dumbledore went quiet. "No, my dear. Last year when Lupin was with us. Just before your disappearance."

"Lupin…" Circe said dreamily, her eyes clouding over as images of claws and bared teeth flashed her mind, and she was unable to place them.

"My dear, are you feeling quite alright?"

"I don't know. I don't know…" Circe began to tear up. "Ever since the end of last year, I've found it hard to... hang onto memories. Severus says I've said things that-that I don't remember saying and he's promised me things that I don't remember him promising…" she trailed off as a tear escaped her eye. She wiped it away hastily whilst the Headmaster eyed her up cautiously.

"The night of Black's arrival particularly?"

Circe nodded.

"Why don't you give them to me? Your memories. And then perhaps you can use the Pensieve to-"

"No! I… I get worse when I think about that night."

Dumbledore approached her carefully, picking out an empty vial from the cabinet as he did so. "I could take a gander. See if anything amiss is blocking your retaining abilities." He held out the vial to her and Circe picked it up. Did she trust Dumbledore? If he had her memory of that night he'd be able to see that she had stolen the timeturner from Hermione and her story to Fudge was a complete fabrication. She pushed it into her pocket and smiled politely.

"I'll think about it."

* * *

Minerva had told her to stay in bed and rest up that weekend. Probably because Mcgonagall had been forced to wake Circe up three times in the past week. Circe had been snoozing quite merrily in bed every time Mcgonagall had knocked on her door, thinking she had nothing to be getting up for. And when she startled awake, she'd spent a few frightened minutes in front of the bathroom mirror, staring back at herself and wondering where her mind was going. Minerva, of course, just presumed she was tired and had told her to rest up now the blessed weekend had arrived. But Circe wasn't tired, she was scared. And if she did as Minerva asked, she'd be spending the whole day lying under her duvet, trying to fight off a panic attack. The Bulgarians and the French were off to Edinburgh, and Circe fancied visiting her old home to show around the foreigners.

"Why don't you let Filius or Hagrid accompany them?" Minerva said to her as she sipped on her coffee, watching Circe apply her mascara in their little conservatory.

"Are you kidding? Those two out in the muggle world will look like Ant and Dec in a circus mirror…"

Minerva chuckled. Circe was just positioning her amber brooch on her tartan coat, ready to head off.

"And besides-" Circe continued. "My job before I came here was giving tours of Edinburgh. When the University wasn't paying me enough, that is. It'll be just like the old days!"

"Are you sure you're quite up for it though, my dear?" Mcgonagall asked delicately. "Yesterday, at dinner, you were a little out of sorts. I think you were so tired, you thought it was breakfast. You kept asking Pomona where the orange juice was."

"Oh it was just a… silly joke that me and umm Hagrid had going on."

"But Hagrid wasn't at dinner… he was out tending to the dragons."

"Oh was he not?" Circe said nervously. "Well, talk about abandoning me on stage…"

Circe met the foreign Head's and a small selection of their students down in the clock tower courtyard. A few of the French and Bulgarian students were eager to see a bit of Britain during their time at Hogwarts and, based on what Circe had been told by Igor, this was the first of many residential trips planned. Circe stopped dead when Maxime turned around and fixed her with a pursed-lipped smirk, but luckily Igor drew her into a hearty hug, slapping her on the back as he talked excitedly of their imminent excursion. All of the kids had an overnight bag, the Professors too, and Circe gathered their attentions and ushered them out of the castle grounds and down into the village. She instructed the children one by one how to say "Deacon Brodie's Pub, Edinburgh" properly, before she gave them a handful of floo powder. They disappeared off into Rosmurta's fireplace, engulfed in green flames, until Circe and Maxime were the only ones left. She extended the pouch of powder out to her with a slightly unsteady hand. Maxime took a handful and asked again,

"Ed-in-burr-uhh, oui?"

"That's it."

"Mon dieu, I do not know why the British insist on spelling things different to how it is pronounced."

"Just wait till you hear about, Worcester…" Circe muttered.

Maxime went whooshing off into the floo network and Circe soon followed. She stepped out of the fireplace in the basement of Deacon Brodie's as she did a quick headcount, smiling as she realised all of them had arrived safely.

"Well done, all!" Circe congratulated the foreign students. "Shall we drop off bags first?"

The owner of Deacon Brodie's was a witch whom Circe had known for a number of years. Her and Myron had played here a few times, back in the days when it was just he and her and their two acoustic guitars. She gave the middle-aged, red haired woman a polite nod as the overseas students climbed the stairs from the basement.

"Cheers, Morag." Circe said as the owner pulled a pint for an unsuspecting muggle man at the bar.

"Come back later fer a pint when yaeve put the waens t'bed, aye?"

"Sure."

"What did she say?" Maxime asked, as they stood in the street of the Royal Mile. "I could not understand a word!"

"Oh, so much for the 'Auld Alliance' then, eh?" Circe laughed. Maxime remained stone-faced. "She said we're welcome to come back when the waens, the wee-ones, are in bed."

The group walked along towards the University, stopping every so often for Circe to point out a particular spot or attraction. The University often let out rooms in the student halls to people who were willing enough to pay the meagre price to use the vacant rooms for a stay. Circe knew them well enough, down by the Pleasance Courtyard. Simple and a little spartan, but efficient enough. And when enquiries had been made, they'd managed to clinch a flat for the Durmstrang boys and a flat on the floor above for the Beauxbattons ladies. After a few minutes of allowing the children to drop their bags off and freshen up in the communal bathrooms, Circe walked out of the Halls to get herself a quick coffee from the small cafe across the road.

Circe missed her life in the city. She missed the blackened sandstone towers and the bustle of people. She even missed her tiny little flat from time to time. It all seemed like it had happened in another lifetime, when she'd lived and worked here. She was just tucking into her cappuccino, sitting on a bench in a small little park overlooking the Pleasance Theatre, when she heard a voice whisper a "Psst!" to her. She turned around suddenly to see Remus loitering in the shadows of a linden tree.

"You made it! God, I didn't remember if I'd actually got around to sending my letter." She stood up and strode over to Remus, embracing him as they smiled.

"Yes, well… you did threaten to send my gramophone to Grimmauld Place piece by piece if I didn't come to meet you…"

"And where the bloody hell have you been if not at Grimmauld Place?" Circe asked, fixing Lupin with a reproachful look.

"Tonks told you then, did she?" he said sheepishly.

"Well, Sirius certainly bloody didn't!" Circe replied sharply. Lupin flinched and Circe looked him over. He was still wearing pretty much the same clothes he'd worn when he'd left Hogwarts. He looked thin and drawn. Deep circles sat under his eyes.

"I asked him not to, Circe." Remus said with a long sigh.

"Have you been living rough again?" Circe asked, her brow furrowing with worry. Remus looked to the floor, kicking at the fallen white flowers from the linden tree.

"Hostels and shelters. Got to move on after every month or so, of course…"

"Oh, Remus! What happened? With you and Sirius? Did…. did it not work out?"

"Something like that…" he offered vaguely. "You mentioned in your letter that it's Tri-Wizard year."

"Gosh we have a lot to catch up on." Circe muttered.

She heard a flurry of high-pitched, delicate French voices and turned around to see the Beauxbattons girls already congregating out the front of the Halls, ready to start exploring Edinburgh. Circe pulled Remus behind the linden tree in a hurry, eager to keep him out of sight.

"Look, I suspected something must have happened with Sirius and you, after Tonks let it drop that you were only swinging by to pick up your letters every now and again. The situation probably wasn't made better by Tonks's presence, knocking on your door constantly… Am I right?" Circe asked.

"I think the only person more jealous than Sirius is Severus." Lupin spoke quietly. "But we aren't the same people that we were twelve years ago, and Sirius just wanted to carry on as if nothing had-"

"Professor Smith?" Fleur called from over the road. "Most of us are 'ere and ready for our tour!"

"Gah! Here, you have this." Circe said, handing her coffee cup to Remus. "And take my room key too. You look like you could use a good nap."

"Circe, honestly I'm okay…"

"You're a poor liar, Remus. Look, have a little sleep, order yourself a takeaway…" she continued, slapping a muggle twenty pound note into his hand. "...and I'll be back soon to talk you through my plan."

"Your plan?"

"To help get you sorted and safe, mate."

Remus said nothing, his eyes filling with tears. He looked at the note and the key in his hands and nodded wordlessly.

"Don't… don't tell Sirius… that I've been living rough. I may have told him that I was going to Tonks's… when I was angry."

Circe groaned, but did not press him further. She patted him on the shoulder and walked off to rejoin her tourist group.

"Sorry about that." Circe said nonchalantly to the waiting Durmstrang and Beauxbattons teachers. "Just spotted an old friend from when I used to live here. Shall we…?"

"Un monsieur, non?" Fleur said, eliciting a small giggle from the other French ladies. "Petit-ami, peut-être?"

"Boyfriend?! Ohh, no. I...Uhh…"

"Mademoiselles!" Maxime said sharply, and in a second the Beauxbattons girls fell gravely silent. "Professor, shall we commence your tour?"

"Yeah…" Circe said, swallowing hard. "Follow me everyone."

* * *

After a long day of touring the Old Town, from the top of Edinburgh castle, all the way to Arthur's seat, Circe was well and truly tired. Her voice was a little hoarse from having to talk over the top of the other muggle tourists at the Edinburgh sights, but that was nothing that a small drink would not fix. She loved talking about this city, and there was always a pub waiting for her with a soothing pint somewhere nearby. As Circe had rounded up her story of Greyfriars Bobby, by the iron gates of Greyfriars graveyard, the students had been allowed a few hours to explore in their groups before their curfew back at the Halls at 9 o'clock. After a few of the children had hung back to ask Circe for some recommendations of places to get a quick bite to eat, Karkaroff and Maxime also were waiting on her local guidance to be taken somewhere for a drink.

"How about back at Deacon Brodie's?" Circe asked.

"Ahh that charming little… 'ow you say? Pub?" Maxime asked.

"Yes."

"Well, you should know, Professor Smith. Beauxbattons ladies drink only the best single malt whiskey."

"Then Olympe..." Circe said, taking her arm. "I think you and your girls will be right at home in Scotland."

The Professors settled into a neat little booth by the window, much to the delight of Morag, who welcomed Circe back, and the foreign Heads to the country, with a round of Glenfiddich. Circe had never been a huge fan of whiskey, but her skint days here as a post-grad had taught her not to be picky when free booze was being offered. After a few rounds and increasingly amiable chat (once the beer began to flow), the three of them ordered haggis, neeps and tatties. When it arrived, Maxime looked at it rather disgustedly, but Igor began wolfing his down in an instant. Circe too, tucked in to her meal and the French Headmistress reluctantly followed.

"Do I want to ask what 'aggis is?" she asked.

"No. I'll tell you when you've finished it." Circe said and Maxime laughed. After a few mouthfuls she conceded that it was rather tasty. When the meal was done and Maxme had felt considerably more francophilic after ordering a raspberry creme brulee for dessert, they settled back into more drinks.

"So tell me, Professor. Why are you not married?" Igor asked suddenly. Circe blushed fiercely. "That young man who you met with by the Halls, he seemed like a handsome man. And you are a beautiful lady."

Maxime cleared her throat.

"...Amongst other beautiful ladies here." he finished quickly as Maxime tittered.

"He _wasn't_ my ex-boyfriend _._ " Circe said hurriedly. "And also because the last time I was someone's 'type', I was giving blood, Igor…"

Karkaroff laughed again, slapping the tabletop heartily and almost sending Circe's and Maxime's drinks over.

"And why should a woman need to be married, eh?" Olympe chimed in. "Her life does not lack meaning if she is without a man at 'er side. She is a woman after my own 'eart." she finished giving Circe a warm look. Circe smiled back and nodded.

"Well, from what you told me on our first day at Hogwarts, it sounds like you'd be content with a man _or_ a woman at your side!" Karkaroff taunted.

"Oh God, not this again.." Circe muttered, putting her head in her hands.

"You know, I saw Odette with 'er children only last spring." Maxime said, making Circe's head snap up.

"She… she has children?"

"Two. A set of twin boys. You know she works for the Ministère des Affaires Magiques de la France?"

"I… no I didn't. I never really heard from her after I was… sent home by you."

"Ahh ma cherie, je suis desole. I could not tell you then, but you know 'er father would have started an awful fuss if he'd have found out about your… daleance. He was not a very liberal-minded man. Odette begged me just to send you 'ome and she promised to do six months worth of detentions if I kept it from 'er father."

Circe had been told about Odette's father, during that time long ago in France. He too worked for the Ministry in France, from an old and long line of pureblood French wizards. Odette was always expected to marry into another pure family and continue the line. Circe didn't give a flying fuck about any of that and this had made her appear very enticing and intriguing to the French girl who'd been raised on strict ideas and boundaries on purity and poise.

"But… but you wrote to _my_ father." Circe asked, frowning slightly. _Why had Maxime just assumed my family would treat me any better?_

"Oui. But in my letter I never went into the specifics of your indiscretion. Surely you know this…?"

Circe turned an even deeper red. She'd made sure her Dad had never opened Maxime's letter, out of anxiety over how he would react. If Odette had been afraid of her family finding out too, then surely that could have been the case for her as well.

"I suppose that's why I never heard back from Odette then. She couldn't be seen communicating with me… in case her father put two and two together."

"Oui. But she is 'appy now. And they keep 'er busy down at the Bureau de la Justice Magiquie." Maxime finished this sentence labouring over the last few words, as if outlining to Circe where she might send a letter to if she were to decide to write to Odette now.

Circe gave a small smile back to the Headmistress. "Thank you."

After a while, Circe stood up and excused herself to go to the loos. She washed her hands and took a moment to look herself over in the mirror. Did she want to write to Odette? Wouldn't her husband be a little put-out if she decided to get in contact? Still, it was a welcome, nice distraction to find herself thinking about someone other than Severus. She signed as she remembered what Dumbledore had said to her about his patronus, that little riddle that he'd put tantalisingly out there… She remembered that Snape had been unable, reluctant to show it last year and she'd caught a few scant glances of it when he thought no one was watching. The hurt from remembering Odette was faded and distant, barely even a pain anymore. Almost a kind of aching happiness. The hurt from Severus was still fresh. She ached to tell someone about it, just vent to someone who could listen and understand. And then, coming back to her like she'd been hit with a sledgehammer, she remembered Remus waiting in her Halls room for her.

Circe dried her hands and began thinking of a way to get loose of the foreigh Headmasters and back to Remus as quickly as possible. But she paused for a moment, remembering that even Remus had kept things from her: about him and Black, about his living situation. Everybody she cared about seemed to do that. Even Remus had left her alone after the night of his transformation.

She couldn't stop her mind from wandering, ticking over the horrible events of that last night under the Whomping Willow. It was like when someone tells you not to think of a black cat, and then suddenly that's all you can think about. All at once, her head was flooded with images of stretching limbs and vicious claws. Silvery white moonlight and gnashing jaws. Someone was screaming out her name as she bled into the ground. Things that had never happened. She clutched at her head, in excruciating pain, and stared down into the drainage plug of the white sink in front of her. Feeling like her memories were draining away like the tap water flowing away down the plug.

And then, she forgot.

To Circe, it was now 1991. Before she'd accepted her job at Hogwarts. Before she knew Remus and Minerva and Hagrid and Severus… Before all of that, when she'd still been living in Edinburgh and working for the University part-time. When she looked up at herself in the mirror, she couldn't quite recall why she looked so pale. Perhaps it was a bad bevvy after a gig her and Myron had just finished up here. They'd played together a few times at Deacon Brodies. Quiet little acoustic gigs, just to touch base with one another and keep their friendship ticking over. She adjusted her coat and frowned as her hand passed over an amber brooch on her lapel.

_Hmm, when did I get that?_

She shrugged her shoulders and strode out of the toilets, hands in her pockets. She looked around for Myron, or anyone she recognised, but she found no one bar the owner Morag, who nodded to her curtly. As she wandered her way out of the pub, off on her way home, she thought she heard a voice with a strange accent calling out something weird. "Professor", was it? But she continued on, not bothering to turn and investigate the shouting. Shouting was something that happened in pubs all the time, and Circe was ready for a pot noodle and bed.

She walked along the dark and rather empty streets of Edinburgh, coated with a fine mist in the dimness of evening. The headlights of the many cars illuminated the mist until it shone so brightly into her eyes she had to close them to stop herself becoming too dazzled with whiteness. But she almost didn't need to see. She knew these streets intimately. She let her feet walk her confidently on until she'd firmly found her way out of the touristy center and was outside of her old block of flats. She fumbled in her pockets for her keys but groaned aloud to the air as she realised she must have left them somewhere.

_That'll be a fun little scavenger hunt in the morning. I hope Myron took my guitar as well after the gig…_

Her fingers brushed against something long and thin in her inside pocket and she frowned.

_My wand? Why did I bring my wand out? I normally just leave it under my bed these days._

Nevertheless, Circe cast a quick look around her and was satisfied that the street was empty enough for her to cast a quick charm.

"Alohomora." she whispered, and the door clicked open. She slipped inside the building with a smile, thankful she wouldn't have to call the landlord tonight. Circe continued climbing the stairs to her old flat, wondering if her VCR had managed to actually record Top of the Pops for her. She approached her door and cast another unlocking spell.

As she stepped inside, she was immediately brought to a sudden halt.

_What the fu- Where is all my stuff?!_

None of the furniture in the flat was hers. And the white terrier sitting on the sofa didn't belong to her either. Was this a joke? Had she been evicted? The dog looked at her and began to growl.

"What is it, Duggie?" another voice called out from _her_ kitchen. The dog began to bark, each sound sending Circe's mind reeling as realisation suddenly began coming back to her.

_Wait, this isn't my flat…_

_I don't live here anymore…_

_Oh my God, I haven't lived here for over three years!_

An old lady emerged into the living room to investigate the noise of the dog and she immediately locked eyes with Circe. She looked back at the old woman with wide eyes and open mouth. Her heart pounded.

"I.. I can-"

"AHHHHHHHHHHH!" the old woman screamed, dropping the mug she'd been holding. "JOCKO! JOCKOOO!"

Out of her old bedroom came a rather large looking man with the meatiest hands Circe had ever seen, wearing a stained white vest and blue tracksuit bottoms. Half a cigarette still hung from his mouth as he looked at the little barking terrier and then to Circe.

"I'm… I'm sorry I think there's been a mista-"

"Yer too right there's been a mistake!" the man shouted, lunging towards her. Circe dodged his grabbing meaty hands and ran to the other side of the sofa.

The old woman screamed on. "GET 'ER, JOCKOO!"

The dog barked incessantly.

"I'll show you that ye picked the wrong flat to burgle, ye dirty little thief!"

Jocko lunged for her again and Circe screamd, knocking over their TV as she went.

She ran for the door and managed to get to freedom just as Jocko was closing in on her again and narrowly missing another porcelain mug being thrown at her head. Circe sprinted for dear life down the stairs and did not look back as she fled headlong into the mist.

Remus was still happily dozing in her bed when he heard Circe fiddling with the lock on the room's door. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, grumbling a little as the light flicked on.

"Have you eaten?" he asked, his leftover Chinese on the small desk in the room. He could smell it. "I think there's still a bit of sweet and sour-"

Circe sobbed, and Remus looked up at her to see her back pressed against the door and her face coated in tears.

"Circe? Circe, what happened?"

"I just broke into someone's flat…"


	35. "Someday you will find me caught beneth the landslide."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I tried to describe in the best way I could how I experience my panic attacks. Hope it translated well x

Explaining why Circe had up and abandoned Karkaroff and Maxime in Deacon Brodie's the next day was a bit of a task. Safe to say, the rest of their overnight stay in Edinburgh had taken much more of a frosty and awkward turn after the French and Bulgarian Head's had been left to find their own way back to the accommodation after she'd seemingly walked out of the toilets and abandoned them, not even turning to hede them when they'd called after her. Her friendliness with Maxime and Karkaroff was shot after that, but Circe was hard pressed to care about the loss of warm feeling for either of them. She'd spent most of the night after she'd wandered back to the Halls, crying to Remus. He was the only person she'd divulged the full extent of her forgetfulness too, other than Severus, and since their little confrontation at the World Cup she'd not divulged even to him how serious it had gotten.

Remus had begged her to see Dumbledore and tell him about it, which she had reluctantly promised to him to do as soon as she got back to Hogwarts. In return Circe had made Remus promise her that he would stay in the Student Halls flat that the foregin students had stayed in during their overnight Edinburgh stay. It was all part of her plan: the only people who rented out the rooms that the Beauxbattons and Durmstrang students had used were visiting guest lecturers or Erasmus students. People who either weren't staying long or didn't tend to ask many questions. It wasn't the best of high living, but at twenty five pounds a week it was cheap, and something that Circe could afford. Remus of course had tried to turn down her offer to pay for a room for him, but after Circe had also promised to send Lupin wolfsbane whenever she could smuggle the ingredients from Snape's storage room, the offer became too good for him to turn down.

"If you're ever short at the end of the month… because of me, just say and I'll find somewhere else to go, Circe." Remus had said to her as he hugged her goodbye in the morning.

"It's fine, Remus. I can't offer you a couch to sleep on anymore, but I'll help you in any way I can." she replied, thinking again of the annoying little dog barking up at her from her old sofa. She cringed as the memory of that awful incident came back in a sudden flash.

"Go and tell Dumbledore what happened last night." Remus said gently.

"I will... it's just… I don't know how much he'll be able to help. Perhaps I'm just going mad."

"Go. And. See. Him." Remus said firmly. "Don't be like me. Acknowledge when you need help and ask for it."

After a rather pained and haughty second day of touring Edinburgh, Circe was relieved when they left the city by way of Morag's fireplace and were back at Hogwarts by the late afternoon. Circe had left her memories outside Dumbledore's office, in the little glass vial he'd given her, at the base of his office door. She didn't feel quite brave enough to hand them over to the Headmaster and look him in the eye as she did so, but she'd knocked on his door and bolted for her chambers as fast as she could before it could open. She'd flopped into her bed and wept for many a long hour into her pillow, wondering about her disastrously out-of-sorts head.

 _I forgot them all…_ she thought as she rubbed away the moisture from her glasses for the umpteenth time. _I forgot Minerva and Remus and… Severus. I forgot every single bit of it._ Her heart ached at the idea that one day she may never be able to recall that she ever came back to Hogwarts, her home, her life. It had reminded her of just how much of a miserable, un-magic existence she had led before she had decided to take up the position here. How had she ever felt nostalgic for that?! She drifted into an uneasy sleep and woke the next day with her face feeling tight and crusted with salt.

At least she'd remembered this time that today was important. It was the day of the first challenge…

Activities were not due to start until the mid-morning, so she took the opportunity to have a long and leisurely bath. She filled the hippogriff-footed tub with an excessive amount of bubbles and essential oils, until the whole room smelt like a florist shop. She bunched her hair up high and left her clothes in a crumple on the floor, settling down into the warm water with a heavy sigh. It was relaxing for a while, until she became introspective and melancholy, the silence and emptiness of the bathroom giving her time and space to think over things she wanted to forget. She pushed a pile of bubbles around with her foot, wondering if Dumbledore had looked at her incriminating memories yet. She thought too of Gilderoy, poor Gilderoy who still sat in St Mungo's with a mind like swiss cheese. If they couldn't help him get his head in order, then would anyone be able to help her? She thought of her mother and the mantra that she'd taught her: " _As long as you have a beating heart, and two hands to heal with, there's nothing in your day that you don't have the strength to tackle."_

She began to cry, her tears dropping into the bathwater around her. For the first time in her life, she was feeling like her mother's words of wisdom fell a bit short.

As the water turned cold, she drained the bath and rose to dress swiftly. If a bath hadn't helped to brighten her mood, then food might. And it was high time that she got over herself and went to get a croissant and a hot chocolate from the Staff Room. She pulled on an oversized, deep orange jumper and paired it with a pleated autumnal-coloured plaid skirt and thick black tights. Her trusty tartan coat was still on the back of her vanity chest's chair, and she threw it over her shoulders as she strode from her room, eager for as much chocolate and pastries as she could lay her hands on.

There were still a few staff present in the Staff Room when Circe entered. She caught Maxime's eye as she passed her, just on her way out, and the two women nodded curtly to one another.

"Ah, Professor Smith. Come to finally enjoy the delights of France." Maxime asked.

"Indeed. Couldn't resist any longer."

"Well, if you'll excuse me, I need to tend to a few last minute matters with Madame Delacour." Circe nodded and moved to sidestep past her. The giant stopped her, holding her in place with a single raise of her finger. "You see what I did there, Professor?" Maxime asked sardonically. "I _told_ you that I needed to go before I left..." she finished so icily there could have been snowflakes on her breath.

Circe blushed fiercely as Maxime left her in deep embarrassment. The giant woman strode from the room as poised haughtily regal as Marie Antoinette. Circe sighed heavily once she had gone and closed her eyes. She gathered up her scant pride and pushed on to the sweet treats that had been left in the small kitchenette. A small group of Professors sat in a rough circle in one corner, each of them with a large mug of chocolat chaud and a huge, sugar-dusted croissant. Minerva gave her a small wave, placing her croissant down on the coffee table before her, beside a rather large cauldron of something iridescent and shimmering. Circe made her way over to the kitchenette and ladelled herself out a drink from a huge cauldron of steaming, thick, brown liquid and grabbed an almond topped pastry. She settled down next to Minerva, nodding politely at Filius and Rolanda from across the circle. They seemed to be talking about something that was getting them all in a bit of a giggle.

"... but it was the smell of dog that told me. And then I knew. She's head over heels for Hagrid!" Minerva said with a wide smile.

"What? Who are we talking about?" Circe asked, already feeling a little better for the distraction of gossip. "Who's head over heels for Hagrid?"

"Olympe!" Flitwick said with a giggle. "After she walked in here and smelt the-"

Minerva kicked him and he shut-up. "The-the chocolate. Quite an aphrodisiac is it not?"

"So they say…" Circe said with an eye-roll. She munched into her croissant happily, drawn into a conversation Rolanda was having about the dates being set for this year's Quidditch matches. Minerva leant over to Filius with a cheeky smile, seeing she was momentarily distracted.

"Don't tell her it's amortentia." she whispered, casting an eye back to the cauldron on the coffee table. "Those Weasley twins have caused me enough trouble after I caught them brewing a batch big enough to give out to the whole of the Gryffindor female population. Let's have a little enjoyment out of it…"

"Oh Minerva, you are _shameless_!" Flitwick laughed.

They both leant back into their chairs and Minerva cleared her throat. "Ahemm, Circe? Can you smell that in the air...?"

"What?" Circe said, turning back to Mcgonagall.

"There's something in here that I can't quite place. A strange aroma…"

Circe took a sip of her hot chocolate and put it down on the table. She sniffed deeply and Minerva and Filius both looked at her with eager eyes.

"I don't know… I mean, when I came in here, I thought there might not be any croissants left, it smelt more like… teacakes than pastries."

"Oh yes…?" Minerva pressed.

"And somebody's got some very strong aftershave on. Very sandalwoody."

"Sandalwood. Interesting."

"And whatever Severus has got in there…" she gestured to the cauldron. "It stinks. God, no wonder his clothes always smell like burnt herbs because he's toasted whatever he put in that."

Minerva beamed from ear to ear. "Teacakes, sandalwood and burnt herbs, ehh?"

At that moment, Filch walked over to the circle of staff and butt in with a raspy cough.

"Ahemm, excuse me Professors. But that Skeeter woman is here again, and she's trying to bribe students for different bits of their uniform so she can smuggle herself into the common rooms. I caught her trying to get into the Hufflepuff dormitory so she could sneak an interview with Diggory."

"Oh for goodness sake…" Circe said, downing her hot chocolate and pocketing the rest of her croissant. "I'll go and tell her to bugger off."

"Oh, hang on. I know what Skeeter's like. I'll come with you." Rolanda added.

"Me too." Filius said, jumping out of his seat. "I still haven't got over when she published my height as three foot one. I'm _clearly_ three foot eight!"

Most of the staff left to show Rita Skeeter off and Minerva was left quite alone. After a while, she heard the House Elves clamouring away behind her as they tidied away the croissants and hot chocolate. Minerva didn't look at them, knowing they preferred to be left alone and out of sight whilst they worked. She smiled to herself as she watched the steam of the amortentia curling seductively from the cauldron before her.

_So she's smitten with him too then, eh? Oh, poor girl!_

Almost as if thoughts of him had made him appear, in the next moment Severus came striding into the staff room with a flurry. With a jump, Minerva covered the amortentia with her shawl. If Circe hadn't recognised the potion on sight, then Severus almost certainly would.

"Minerva." he said with a curt nod, heading for the big brass espresso machine. He had never been a fan of hot chocolate, preferring black coffee instead, and had therefore declined Madame Maxime's food offering, only coming to the Staff Room once the initial rush for the chocolat chaud and pastries had passed.

"Severus." she replied.

She watched as Severus seemed to halt in his tracks, coming to a sudden stop as he craned his head upwards ever so slightly.

"You know… someone should tell our blasted Ancient Studies Professor that she wears way too much of that peony and blushed suede perfume. I can tell she was just here. God, she must be drenched in it."

Minerva hadn't smelt even the slightest trace of perfume on Circe, and she covered her mouth with a hand, trying to disguise her massive smile.

"Oh, I'll have a wee word with her…." she muttered, leaning on her armchair.

"Madame Maxime's still leaving hot chocolate and croissants out for the staff too? That really should be put a stop to; Filius won't be able to fit in his robes by the end of the year if that's on offer every morning…"

 _But that was all taken away by the House Elves a while ago... Whatever he's smelling there, it must be chocolatey._ Minerva wondered.

"You know, the French seem to think they hold the superior position when it comes to pastries and cooking. Doesn't smell any bloody different from a chocolate yule log to me…" Snape muttered, pouring his coffee into a mug.

_Ah._

Minerva cleared her throat and thought of something to say back to Severus quickly. "Oh you're, quite right Severus. Give me scampi and chips over escargot any day…"

"Is there a window open in here? Or has Rolanda tracked mud all the way through the castle again? Ugh, it smells like the bottom of the Quidditch pitch in here."

Minerva couldn't control her giggling aymore, and as she stood up brusquely, grabbing the cauldron in both hands she tried to fight down her laughs as she hurried from the room. Severus watched her go with a strange look, thinking the old witch may have been choking, judging by the noises she had made.

* * *

Circe had been held up for some time by Rita Skeeter's antics. The journalist was tenacious and had escaped the Hogwarts Professors by running from classroom to classroom screeching about "freedom of the press". They'd lost track of her somewhere around the greenhouses, but Circe and the others were satisfied enough that the awful little spin-doctor was far enough away from the competitors.

The first challenge's commencement was approaching fast. Most of the students were already making their ways down to the stadium. Fred and George were shouting to the migrating students, taking bets and placing odds on each of the Tri-Wizard champions. Circe would have told them off for attempting to start a betting ring, but she didn't have the mental energy. Apparently Cedric was the firm favorite , which Circe could have guessed from the excessive numbers of 'Potter stinks' badges she'd seen littering the halls and the quads. Poor Harry swore black, blind and blue that he hadn't put his name in the Goblet, and Circe was inclined to believe him. If the treatment he'd received from the other Hogwarts students wasn't proof enough, then the lost and hurt look in his eyes that she'd seen as he went from lesson to lesson just about confirmed it for her. She'd done her best to try and get him and Weasley to make up, pairing them together in lessons and giving them little carry-and-fetch tasks for her in her classroom, but Circe had heard the red-haired boy complaining to Dean Thomas how much he'd been hurt by Harry's flippant remarks about the "riches and glory" that the winners got. Circe knew the Weasley's weren't particularly well off and it had tugged on her heartstrings a little to hear how Ron would have used the competition prize money to help his family out. Circe wandered to herself as she walked amongst the students.

_Ron wouldn't be Tri-Wizard material anyway. Ginny on the other hand…._

The Weasley girl was showing promise. Circe had gotten over her initial fright of the girl, after the rather demonic way she'd popped up behind her in the Hogwarts tunnels a few years back. The memory of Ginny's eyes rolling in her head like white snooker balls was faded, and Ginny had decided to take Ancient Studies as one of her options. She liked the girl, she was feisty, opinionated, incredibly witty, and not as officious as her now departed brother, Percy.

_Or did Percy leave last year?_

Circe groaned and kicked a stone on the pathway leading to the stadium. She watched it plummet over the cliff's edge where the stadium had been built and she listened for the plop of it reaching the bottom. She almost jumped out of her skin when instead she heard the roaring of the dragons. Her ears were filled with the primal, animalistic growls of the magical beasts and an acute fear rose up in Circe's chest. She didn't know why she felt so frightened all of a sudden. All of the students around her looked at one another and breathed out their "wows", revelling in the danger of the upcoming task. Circe was shaking uncontrollably.

She turned around and stared over the cliff's edge, anxious that none of the students should see how frightened she was. She tried to calm herself down, taking deep, levelled breaths, all the time wondering what the sound reminded her of. And why the sound scared her and tapped into a fear that turned her legs to jelly. She sat down on a rock as her breaths grew shorter and more desperate. She was panicking. She felt faint. Sweaty. Like she was constantly on a part of a rollercoaster that was dipping down, her diaphragm up in her chest.

"Circe, are you alright?" a voice at her back said.

She turned around sharply, unable to stop her legs and arms from shaking.

"Severus, I'm going to die…" she spluttered. Snape looked around him, at the last few students ambling into the stadium. He waved his wand and in a flash a wall of stones had built up around them, shielding Circe from prying eyes. Everything seemed at once painfully slow and ungodly fast to Circe. Her face was coated in tears in a matter of seconds as she fought against her thumping heart. It felt like it was thrashing about in death-throws inside her. And she couldn't quite suck in enough air with each ragged breath.

"It's alright, you're not going to die. It's an anxiety attack." Severus said gently to her as he crouched down before her and held her trembling hands.

"I'm dying, I'm having a heart-attack…" she said in a blind panic.

"No you aren't. It'll pass." he said forcefully. Circe sobbed and Severus gripped her hand tighter. "Tell me your top three albums of the past ten years."

"Wha-What?"

"Hurry up! Top three albums of the last ten years."

"I… I don't know… Umm, Paul Simon, Graceland. Nevermind, Nirvana… and uhhh What's the Story Morning Glory."

"Alright, most overrated artist of the past ten years."

"Madonna."

"Most underrated artist of the past ten years."

"Tom Waits."

"Someone you want to see live."

"The Cranberries or umm Fleetwood Mac."

"Top musician of all time."

"David Bowie."

Severus paused, looking at her for a moment as she seemed to settle back into normality. Circe sniffed, feeling her heart-rate slow and the panic die down. She breathed out, long and steady and looked at Severus's hand on top of hers. She withdrew from him suddenly, wrapping herself in a tight clutch.

"Feel better?" he eventually asked.

"Yes…" she whispered. "Thanks for the distractions. How did you know what to do?"

"I… once knew someone who also suffered from anxiety attacks."

"Oh."

"How long have you been… like this?" he asked as he stared into her emerald green eyes. They were red and stained with running mascara but they still took his breath away.

"That… that was the first time it's overtaken me."She said slowly. "I can normally calm myself down but, I don't know… something about the noise the dragons made…. It just sent me over."

"Sometimes there are triggers and sometimes there aren't." he mumbled, looking at the ground.

"But triggering what?! Why do I feel like this when the kids don't seem to bat an eye?" she cried, wiping her eyes. "I never used to be scared of loud noises. But now… it's like it reminds me of something. Something that's never bloody happened! Something horrible…"

Severus avoided her searching eyes, looking for an answer to her ever increasing problems. It was all becoming too much. The forgetfulness, the bad dreams, and now panic attacks. Severus too felt a stirring in his core, an uncomfortable feeling eating away at his insides. This special, wonderful, beautiful woman was changing because of the memories he'd replaced. When he'd saved her from the werewolf attack, he'd never have thought it would somehow affect her in such a dramatic way. He could only imagine the turmoil her mind must be in, ticking over an experience that she couldn't remember, dealing with trauma that she couldn't place or explain.

_And it's all my fault…_

"Anyway, I thought you said that I have to "stay away" from you." she said bitterly, looking out over the cliffs again. "Why don't you just leave me alone to be buried in my mental landslide."

"Circe, I…I still…" he stuttered. _I still love you._ He thought. _I'd do anything to have you be alright. I love you. I love you…_ he closed his mouth, not trusting himself to leave his lips parted, in case his confessions escaped his mind.

Circe stood up quickly, brushing herself down. "You know… I always hoped I'd be one of those Miss Havisham head-cases, know what I mean? Nice and graceful, aristocratic, champagne at seven in the morning, nineteen- twenties film star dressing gown. Burn out like a star collapsing in on itself. Not like this, not like this…"

She wiped her face with the back of her sleeve and waved her wand, the stone wall disintegrating away in a flash. Severus felt on the verge of tears himself as he watched her gravely pull her coat tighter around her and march on into the stadium. He wanted to run to her so badly, pull her hand back and take her into a kiss that said everything he felt for her: Let her know she wasn't alone. That telling her to stay away from him was the hardest thing he'd ever said. That he fought the compulsion to be at her side every waking moment of the day. How much his soul burned for her.

"Circe, are you sure it's a good idea to watch the first challenge considering-"

"Then you better think of some more music questions, Severus." she responded shortly, refusing to look at him.

Circe took her seat in the Staff stands, feeling the heavy presence of Severus behind her, his dark eyes boring into her back. Dumbledore's voice was loud, echoing through the stadium over the roar of the children.

"IT IS OF THE UTMOST IMPORTANCE THAT YOU STAY IN YOUR SEATS AT ALL TIMES. YOU WILL BE PROTECTED FROM THE TRIALS OF THE CHALLENGE, AS LONG AS YOU STAY SEATED."

Circe took her seat beside Karkaroff. "What happens if we stand up?" she asked.

"Ah well, the protective spells are strong, but limited. Can you imagine the effort it must take to weave a layer of protection around the whole stands? But keep it small enough so it doesn't interfere with the challenge, of course."

"So what? They just cast it so it skims over the top of our heads?"

"Exactly."

Severus stood at her side, looking down on her with a pale, mournful face. "Circe, no one will think less of you if you go back to the-"

"Oh fine, Severus!" Circe said frustratedly, standing back up. "I'll sit on the end of the bench and you go next to Karkaroff. Just like the bloody weedy kids in Primary school who sat on the end of the row incase they got a sudden nosebleed." she got up and dragged Snape by the arm until their positions were swapped. "If I need to go, I'll just get up and go, alright?"

"But remember to keep your head low, Professor!" Karkaroff called to her.

"PLEASE TAKE YOUR SEATS IMMEDIATELY, SPECTATORS!" Dumbledore boomed again.

The remaining students milling around on their feet sat down, shuffling about as they made themselves comfortable. Circe too settled into her new seat, at Severus's side. She looked out into the arena: a rocky, craggy landscape with a singular golden egg at its center. There were two entrances into the arena, one large and one small.

 _One for dragon and one for student._ She thought.

"PROTEGO MAXIMA!" Dumbledore shouted as a hush descended over the crowd. From the end of his wand, a thin, spidery web of deep blue magic began settling neatly over the heads of all who sat in the stands watching. Circe felt it skim over the top of her head, stopping short a mere two or three inches above her crown.

"Gosh that _is_ cutting it fine." she muttered to herself.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, PLEASE WELCOME TO THE ARENA... THE FIRST HOGWARTS CHAMPION, CEDRIC DIGGORY!"

The crowd erupted into a roar as Cedric walked out of his door, clad in his shining yellow Hufflepuff outfit. He waved a little nervously at a few people in the crowd, most notably up at Cho, in the stand opposite Circe. She beamed back down at the boy and Circe rolled her eyes.

_Ugh, how is it a fourteen year old has got a better love life than me?_

Cedric pulled his wand from his pocket and stepped into the arena.

Almost immediately, a menacing growl emanated from deep within the larger of the two entrances and Circe flinched at the noise. A few thunderous booms heralded the approach of the dragon as its massive feet padded along to the arena. Circe began to shake, her hands jittering in her lap. And then, it was there: a massive great Swedish Short-Snout, its scales a beautiful blueish-grey that almost blended into the rocks of the arena, and when it snorted, it spurted out calor-gas blue flames from its nostrils. Circe gasped and Severus looked to her with deep concern embedded in his eyes. The dragon roared, opening it's stunted snout to reveal a multitude of long and sharp fangs, bared at poor Cedric. Circe's head went reeling, flashing images and scenes of a tableau of horror, from a night she could not remember, of a tragedy that she could not recall. Claws, jaws, blood, screams. It was all happening again. As she watched Diggory battling his dragon, she could feel the pull of her memories slipping away down the drain again. Try as she might, she could feel parts of herself dripping away again, but she fought desperately to hang on to them.

"Circe?" Severus asked, having not taken his eyes from her since she first whimpered with fright.

"No, I can't forget…" she uttered so quietly it was lost in the noise of the dragon. Her eyes locked with Severus's as her breathing grew rapid again. "I'd rather die than forget you." she whispered.

Severus frowned, but his attentions were distracted as the crowd cried out and Diggory had to rush for cover, having narrowly just missed grasping the golden egg.

When he looked back, Circe was standing up.

"Circe! What the bloody hell are you doing?! Sit down!" he tried to grab her, but she sidestepped his grab, moving into the corridor. The dragon snapped it's head up and Circe gasped as she locked eyes with the beast.

 _Oh shit…_ she thought as the beast reared up, the blue flames already spewing out of its mouth, heading straight for her. _Nope, changed my mind! Changed my mind! I'm not ready to be burnt to a crisp yet…_ But it was too late, she felt the bright hot heat of the flames on her face, heading straight for her. She was dazzled, like a rabbit in the headlights.

And then, she felt her legs being swept out from underneath her as a pair of strong arms tackled her to the ground. She went falling backwards, watching as she was enveloped in the protective layer of the protego spell again and the blue flames sailed harmlessly overhead. But the space behind her was the walkway up to the stands, and she and whoever had rugby-tackled her went toppling down the steps together. They eventually came to a stop as they reached the landing, halfway down the flight of stairs and Circe was completely smothered in a huge black cape, unable to see anything.

"WHAT IN THE BLUE FUCK IS THE MATTER WITH YOU!" a voice also muffled by the tangle of clothes shouted. Circe had the cloth yanked from her head and light came back to her in a blinding flash. In the fall, she'd managed to nestle herself quite nicely in his lap, her back pressed against his chest.

 _Severus… of course it was Severus.._ She thought as she gazed over her shoulder at him. His eyes were furious but his expression softened as he felt her nearness, holding her in his arms.

"Severus… I need help." she said quietly as a tear rolled down her cheek.

"What the bloody hell was going through your head, you idiot girl?" he said gently. It had meant to come out of his mouth as an insult, but he somehow found himself wiping her tear away with his thumb.

"More like what _wasn't_ going through my head..."

"Your forgetfulness?"

Circe nodded. "Could you take me to Dumbledore's office? I'll wait for him in there until the challenge is over. Put a message on my hand, write it across my forehead if you must…."

"Write what?"

"That I'm starting to forget larger and larger chunks of time. And whatever he had planned when he asked for my memories, he needs to do it _now._ Before I forget my own bloody name…"


	36. "It keeps me up all night, up all night."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Fairly important chapter. A moment of seriousness and a moment of silliness. 
> 
> If you're here, I'm guessing you're an Alan Rickman stan. So do yourself a favour and watch 'Rasputin: Dark Servant of Destiny'. You're welcome x

Chapter 36 - "It keeps me up all night, up all night."

"Severus, if you do not relinquish your memories, she will continue to deteriorate." Dumbledore said gravely. He stared at Severus from over his half-moon spectacles and sighed. "I saw you skulking about in the background of that night when I had a look at Circe's memories. Hiding in the bushes, throwing stones… but the memory is warped when Remus changes… It feels... divergent. No wonder Professor Smith's mind is suffering."

"She can't… she can't see, Albus."

"The attack? Severus, it may help her to process the trauma of that night, put a stop to the panic attacks certainly."

"No not the attack. Before… or well, after that. When she was ill… in the Hospital."

Albus raised an eyebrow at Snape as the Potions Master turned bashful and red. "There is something else that you do not wish for her to see, or to remember?"

"I kissed her." Severus said as grimly as if he'd admitted to murder.

"Ahh." Dumbledore said with a hint of a grin. Severus looked at him imploringly, his eyes swimming with frustrated, frightened tears.

"And how can you be certain that her mind will be righted after she _does_ see what should have happened on that night? You cannot know that her forgetfulness will disappear if she does know the truth."

"Yes, Severus you are quite right. But what other option do we have? She's frightened, afraid that all of her memories will abandon her. Her fate was changed the most significantly of everyone that night, perhaps that is why her head rages against recollections of that evening. Bad things happen to wizards who meddle with time, Severus. You know that. This is it. You may change the past for your own benefit, but there will be consequences."

"I did it for her, not for me!"

"And that might be the very sentiment that saves her! If she can see what originally took place, how she was attacked by Remus, her decline in health, and the decision you took to go back in time… it might help her mind to understand. And with understanding may come healing."

"So why is it I was not affected as she was?"

"Perhaps because you were the enactor. The protagonist, if you will. You have always been aware of both timelines of that night. I don't know how you did it, my friend, but you managed to merge yourself back into this course of events too."

Severus remembered the fractals and tears in time that had appeared that night. He felt like telling the Headmaster that he still woke some nights in a cold sweat as he dreamt of being plummeted into the dark void of one of those tears. Feeling the pull and comfort of endless death. The nothingness of simply ceasing to exist. But he would much rather take bad dreams over Circe slowly losing her mind to memory loss.

"It won't get better, wil it." he asked Dumbledore solemnly.

The Headmaster shook his head. "I do not believe so. But regardless, she deserves to know the truth, whether it will help her or not."

Severus nodded gravely, extending his hand out towards the old man and motioning for an empty glass bottle. Dumbledore had one ready and dropped it into Severus's outstretched palm and waited patiently for Snape to deposit his memories of that night under the Whomping Willow. He touched his wand to his temple and closed his eyes. Slowly, he drew out a thin wispy strand of shimmering matter and watched it as it floated down into the waiting glass bottle.

"There it is." he muttered. "My condemnation."

"Oh don't be so dramatic, Severus." Dumbledore tutted.

"I couldn't stay here if she knew…"

"Oh, well I'm afraid you must. What about Harry? What about the promise you made me? The boy still needs protecting." Severus kicked at the Headmaster's desk in a burst of anger.

_Of course. I couldn't leave. I can't abandon Lily's son._

Dumbledore didn't even flinch at his outburst, merely looked to him with a roll of his eyes. "You won't be abandoning him… us, then, Severus?"

"It appears not. I must serve out my sentence in purgatory here, Headmaster." Snape said through gritted teeth.

"You're being dramatic again, Severus." Albus said, rising to his feet.

A knock came at Dumbledore's door.

"Hello? Headmaster?" Came Circe's voice from the other side of the wood.

"You asked her here?!" Severus whispered, nervous sweat already forming at his brow. "Knowing I may have refused to-"

"No you wouldn't have. You love the girl. I knew you'd do anything for her after you came to see me about your patronus. And if you needed any further convincing, I thought having her here would speed up your ability to make good decisions..."

"Why you manipulative, old, decrepit-"

"Just a moment, dear!" Albus called out. "Well? Would you like to be present when your sentence in purgatory begins? Or would you rather-"

Severus stood up from his seat, scrabbling behind Dumbledore's desk and running to hide in one of the inner sanctuaries of the Headmaster's office. He ducked behind a huge bookcase that Dumbledore kept filled with ancient scrolls and crumbling grimoires.

"Oh Severus, running and hiding from this again?" Dumbledore said, his hands on his hips.

"Piss off." He sneered.

Dumbledore tittered merrily and with a wave of his hand, he opened the door to Circe.

She walked into the Headmaster's office reverently, her hand in her pockets. She quickly looked about the room, having thought she heard another voice in here alongside the Headmaster's. But perhaps she'd imagined it.

 _I thought I was having a good memory day, though..._ She thought soberly. Albus smiled warmly at her and motioned for her to sit down.

"Headmaster, if this is about Cedric's standing in the competition, he shouldn't be penalised because I made a stupid mistake." she began, the words falling out of her in a desperate sputter. "Yes, the dragon was distracted by me but Diggory would have been a fool to ignore the opportunity to snatch the egg up! Doesn't the Tri-Wizard tournament encourage observant thinking and improvising when the situation changes? I'll talk to Barty… Mr Crouch-"

"Professor Smith…" Albus interrupted, "Yes, the Head of the Department for International Magical Cooperation was rather put-out that Diggory's victory in the challenge was heavily influenced by you. Karkaroff and Maxime were whispering in his ear to have Diggory disqualified."

"No! You can't allow that to happen. I didn't… I didn't do it to sway the competition..."

"But you were told rather explicitly not to get out of your seat, Professor." Dumbledore said seriously. Circe looked at her hands and began fidgeting with a ring on her finger.

"No… I know…"

"But you will be pleased to know, after quite a bit of convincing, Barty has allowed Cedric to continue in the competition. His victory stands."

Circe looked up at the Headmaster, wide eyed. "He did? Oh, thank God…" she sighed. "I… uhh… I did tell him what the Atlantean script on the egg said though… I felt bad that I'd jeopardized his position in the competition. And well, I thought he'd thank me for not having that horrific noise ripping through the Hufflepuff common room…"

"Mr Diggory can receive help _outside_ of challenges." Dumbledore said with a smile. "So you told him that the egg instructs its possessor to open it underwater then?"

"Yes. I was a little disappointed that he didn't translate it himself. We studied Atlantean culture and language quite heavily last year..."

Dumbledore tutted and rolled his eyes sympathetically.

"And, well… I also said that I'd only tell him what the egg's script said if he told Harry what to do too."

"Oh, Professor. How diplomatic of you."

Circe smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

"But I have actually called you here for another reason, Circe."

Dumbledore paused as Circe waited on baited breath. After a tense moment, he lay Severus's vial of memories on the desk. Circe's bright smile dropped as she recognised the wispy substance within.

"My memories?" she asked.

"Not yours," he replied. "Severus's."

From behind the bookshelf, Severus had to repress a heavy groan.

"Severus? But… what does he remember about that night that I don't?"

"Something… rather crucial." Dumbledore replied enigmatically, a twinkle in his eye. "Something that may help you understand."

Circe sat in the armchair opposite the Headmaster, momentarily lost in thought. If Severus knew something about the night of Remus's transformation, why hadn't he told her? He'd seen how badly affected she was. He'd held her hands tight as she was in the throws of a panic attack. Cared for and comforted her as she'd wept over her "skittishness". She thought of asking the Headmaster why Snape may have chosen to keep it from her, whatever it was. She thought of asking why he wasn't here to be answerable to her internal allegations. But she was tired, she didn't have the mental energy to expend on Severus. The last few weeks of her mind's deterioration had taken its toll on her.

"Will it help my forgetfulness?" she asked, a lump rising in her throat.

"Maybe." the Headmaster responded simply.

Circe nodded, and grabbed the vial. She stood up and looked expectantly over at the Pensieve, in the corner of the office.

"Now?" Dumbledore asked, a little surprised.

"As soon as possible, Headmaster!"

"Very well." Dumbledore glided over to her side. With a wave of his wand the Pensieve began to move out of it's position, tucked away into the wall, and above it a set of blackened mirrors folded out, shining the eerie blue light of the waters all around the room. He walked over to the bowl and placed a hand on the rim, beckoning Circe closer with the other.

"Pour the memory into the waters…" he instructed, " and then place your face into the bowl. You will feel a tugging sensation. That's the Pensieve wanting to draw you into the memory. It's nothing to fear, let it take you. You will be standing back here once you have seen everything."

Circe nodded and looked down at the vial in her hands again. "Will I like what I see?"

Dumbledore did not answer her, but his eyes swam with a look of deep wisdom. She sighed and made her way to the Pensive's side. She cast one final look to the Headmaster before turning back to the shimmering blue water, emptying the vial, and plunging her face into the iridescent liquid.

"Is… is she…?" Snape asked cautiously as he poked his head from around the bookcase.

"She is. You can come out now."

Snape's scowl sat heavy on his face as he made his way back over to Dumbledore. He looked at Circe, her head submerged in the dip of the Pensive, her hands gripping on to the rim. He wondered what she was seeing first? He'd tried to start from the moment he'd decided to go after Remus when he suspected he was meeting with Black, back when he suspected he knew something about her disappearance. But avoiding their kiss was not possible. It sat right in the middle of the memory he'd given Dumbledore, stopping when he'd freed Sirius from the thorns with his incendio charm and had watched himself and her retreat back up to the castle, with Circe in his arms.

"Does it replay the memories in real time? Or does it…?" Snape asked, feeling hollowed. Gutted to his core.

"I imagine she'll be finished witnessing what you donated in about ten minutes." Dumbledore replied.

"So fast…"

"I am sorry, Severus… but I truly believe this was the only way to help her."

"You do not need to say you're sorry. You don't mean it."

Dumbledre sighed and tried to place a hand on Severus's shoulder, but the Potions Master drew away from him sharply.

"I've been trying to protect her… keep her safe. And now it doesn't matter. She'll see me for what I am: a hypocrite."

"Ah, so that's why you had your little married couple's argument in this office the other night. Did you tell her that you didn't love her?"

"What business is it of yours?!" Snape shouted, turning from him to hide his face. "You already know too much about me… Gah, I don't care any longer. Why don't you just shout it from the top of Ravenclaw tower? It seems like you're party to know the truth about every woman I've ever loved… It couldn't be private, for just me and her... "

"Severus, you know full well I would never betray your confidence. I never have, and never will. But you need not be frightened of falling in love again."

Severus looked to the Headmaster with hatred in his eyes. "How can _you_ of all people say that? My love for Lily keeps me here, you used it as leverage during the war to bring me over to the Order, I risked my life for her and her son, and it still amounted to nothing… And here I am thirteen years later, still your instrument!"

"And I know that you would make those same decisions again, if given your time again. Because you are, Severus, a _good man._ But Circe is not Lily, Severus. History is not fated to repeat itself. But you know that already. I think that's why you love her. And with the dark times looming over the horizon for us all, wouldn't it be better to weather the storm with someone you love at your side?"

"Stop it… Just stop it!" Severus roared, knocking Dumbledore's chair over as he stormed from the room.

As the door to Dumbledore's office banged shut, Circe rose up from the Pensive gasping for air. She fell back, reeling with shock, and Dumbledore was quick to catch her.

"Goodness! That was over a little quicker than I expected!" he said calmingly. Circe's breaths were shallow and rapid, she stared at the Pensieve in disbelief. She was utterly speechless, having seen it all play out before her like a film she had seen when she was a very young child. Something she sort of, maybe remembered, but not really. Now it was all startlingly obvious. Brigadoon, the rock, the protego spell, why Severus had woken up from her sleeping spell. It was all him. And then there was…

Circe touched a hand to her lips, hoping there was still a touch of his warmth there, a faint lingering part of Severus still on her mouth.

"Where is he? The bastard… Where is he now, Dumbledore?!"

"Oh… I, uhh… I don't know who-"

"Don't you dare lie to me any more!" she shouted, pulling herself up and out of the Headmaster's grasp. "WHERE IS HE!?"

"He left a few moments ago." he said quietly, pointing at the door. Circe rushed to leave but Dumbledore called out to her. "Wait, Professor!"

"What?" she asked shortly.

"How do you feel? Did it help?"

Circe paused and thought of the werewolf attack she had just seen. When _she_ had been attacked by the werewolf. The claws, and the blood, and the teeth, and the screaming. It was horrible to think about, awful to remember. But remember it she did. She waited, thinking over and over again about the attack, forcing her mind to think deeply about every painful detail. And then she waited, but her mind did not slip away. Her memories stayed firmly rooted in her psyche. She looked back to Dumbledore, utterly astounded, mouth agape.

"Well?" he asked expectantly.

"I… I remember!" she uttered. "Dumbledore, I remember!" She forgot her momentary anger at the old man and went running to him. Dumbledore laughed heartily as she enveloped him in an elated hug. She cried tears of relief and Dumbledore patted her on the back gently. When she drew back, she cleared her throat and raised a finger at Albus. "I'm still angry with you, by the way… For not telling me what you knew."

"Oh, of course Professor. Now go and find him." Albus replied with a wink.

Circe turned on her heels and rushed from the office, feeling like she was flying on air. It was late afternoon, dusk almost gone, and as she ran past students, on their way to the evening meal in the Great Hall, she stopped a few groups of teenagers every so often to ask which way Professor Snape had gone. This way she managed to chase him through the school and as she passed by the windows of Hogwarts, she heard the great rumble of a thunderstorm stirring to life. As she approached the main doors leading to the castle's expansive grounds, she saw that they were still slightly ajar and rain was smattering the flagstones below. She peered out into the rain and saw the swish of a black cape walking off into the distance. The students behind her were clamouring away, waiting for the commencement of dinner, and as Circe glanced back at them she knew Severus would never hear her over their noise. She turned back to the downpour and stepped out.

Almost immediately she was soaked through to the skin, but she did not give pause even once as she raced through the clock tower courtyard and out towards the standing stones. Severus was in front of her, cutting through the rain like a great black shark, marching with strife and angst through the foul weather. As they both reached the stones, she called out to him.

"Severus, stop!"

He halted in his tracks immediately, but did not turn to face her initially. Circe watched his shoulders hunch as if he were about to be scolded by a parent. He turned around slowly, he too soaked to the bone, his hair limp and sodden, sticking to the sides of his face, but his eyes were hollows of sorrow. Circe gazed back at him at a complete loss for words now she was finally here. For a moment they both stood like that, longingly gazing at one another as the rain beat down around them.

"Well?" she finally asked, flapping the sodden arms of her coat. "Do you have something to say?"

"Circe-"

"Like maybe, "I'm sorry I kept memories from you that could have helped you get better"? "I'm sorry I kept the truth from you about what happened that night"? Oh or maybe, what about "I'm sorry I kissed you and never breathed a fucking word about it"?!"

"It… it was a mistake." Severus stuttered. Circe was not convinced.

"Oh okay, so kissing me was a "mistake"? So we're just straight up insulting each other now, are we? Alright, umm… your use of sarcasm is repetitive and a very easy form of wit."

"I… what?" he asked.

"And I hate that you never ever admit when you're wrong."

"Circe…"

Then she began to laugh, and Severus was thrown completely off guard.

_Why is she laughing? Is she confused again? Deranged? Hysterical?_

"Come on, your turn… Lets get it all out in the open now we're on a roll. Come on! If you want to push me away then you're gonna have to try harder than that, Severus. Especially as you snuck yourself a cheeky kiss when you thought you wouldn't be held answerable for it!" she dissolved into laughter again, her brilliant green eyes shining like gems through her rain-soaked face. Something in the sound of her laugh softened Severus's beating heart. His resolve to storm out into the downpour suddenly felt so dramatic, so emotionally laden, that it was all too much to take seriously. He found himself smiling too as he gazed up into the thick grey clouds above.

_Well, if you can't cry about it… then laugh._

"I… I hate all your friends." he muttered as her laugh infected him.

"Ooh, good start."

"And… and you can't decide if you want to be an academic or a musician."

"Nice, nice."

"You have a pathological need to be liked by the students, and you'll do anything to make yourself seem "cool"."

She giggled. "And the clincher?"

He leaned forward with a slight grin and sneered. "Your music's shite."

She gasped in mock surprise, clutching at her heart. Circe chuckled again and Severus too let out a few low-timbred bubbles of laughter. The only sound around them now was the falling rain as they gazed at one another. "And is any of that really true?" she asked when she could not bear the potency of his dark eyes any more.

His brow knitted together in a frown and he looked to the ground. "No." he whispered. "I suppose I could grow to like Myron." He looked to her with a brazen smile.

Circe snorted. And then she charged forward, closing the chasm between them in a single stride. Before Severus could utter a word of protest her mouth was on his. He stepped back with the suddenness and intensity of the kiss and his back collided with the standing stone behind him. She did not halt or relinquish. And he, his defenses dropped momentarily, kissed her back. Her mouth opened to him and he was lost, belonging wholly to that instantaneous and urgent tongue. He wheeled her around, until she was the one pinned to the stone, his hand about her neck, in her sodden curls, caressing her flushed cheeks. Her fingers gripped at his hair, pulling him deeper into her and she felt him, all of him, pressed against her as the rain ran from his face onto hers.

"I… I can't… This can't happen…" he panted, feeling the alluring throb of her in his very veins.

Circe groaned, rolling her eyes and shoved him away from her, hard. He staggered back, almost slipping on the perilously muddy ground.

"Come back and see me when you've made up your mind, Sev." she uttered with a glower that churned his stomach with desire. She walked past him, letting her shoulder brush against his as she went. Circe walked back up to the castle, aching for Severus with every inch of her but having enough of her pride left to leave him staring after her, stood panting and senselessly overwhelmed in the rain.

"It cannot happen, Circe." he repeated, calling after her. "I… I should stay away from you."

"Oh good, I could use a week or two's peace from you." she shot back with a wink.

Despite the overwhelming sense of confliction he felt, Severus couldn't help but laugh at that. She turned and left him to his ruminations, trudging back up to the castle to dry off and to find a sinfully indulgent hot chocolate and a hairdryer.

_And maybe if I try really hard, I can wank myself into oblivion tonight._

* * *

" _Dear Remus,_

_Hope everything in Auld Reekie's going okay. I've sent over a few month's worth of wolfsbane. Keep it in the fridge. Label it as 'jellied eels' or something, make sure the overseas students don't eat it…_

_I need a small favour. Yule Ball coming up next week, and I need a real "fuck me" dress, you know? Haven't got anything even remotely resembling something posh here, and Dad will dress me up like some porcelain doll if I ask him to get something. Take Tonks with you if you must. She knows the kind of stuff I like._

_It's kind of a make or break night, Remus. So make me look stunning._

_Circe"_

She rounded off her letter with a flurry, looking up from her table in the Great Hall and checking to make sure all other students were still working hard on the translation task she'd set them. She'd been kicked out of her classroom as Maxime had claimed it to teach her lesson on the appropriate dancing routines in preparation for the Yule Ball. It was set to be a long afternoon, stuck in the Great Hall by the warmth of the fire, trying not to nod off. It had been a long few nights for the Professors of Hogwarts, monitoring the halls at night and patrolling the corridors, keeping an eye out for students sneaking around to ask one another to the ball and get in a quick experimental fumble. It was like they were all on heat! Quite a number of Durmstrang boys had been caught seducing the Hogwarts girls and Circe had noticed how Krum had taken a particular fancy to Granger. Every time she was on duty to go teenage-bonking hunting at night, she lived in fear of seeing Hermione in a tangle with Viktor in a dark corner or secluded little alcove.

Circe pulled out another piece of paper, desperately trying to suppress a yawn. She paused, quill hovering over parchment as a dark shadow passed over her. She looked up and caught the sly glance Severus cast at her as he patrolled up and down the rows of benches. He looked down his long nose at her and raised a brow. She made a point of looking nonchalantly back down at her empty parchment, ignoring his grab for attention.

 _Don't look at him, don't look at him, don't look at him, don't look at him…._ she repeated internally, over and over again as she pretended to write. Snape circled back around to his group of fourth years, sharing the other end of the Great Hall with her.

_It would have to be just my luck to be stuck in here all afternoon with Severus and his classes… of all bloody people!_

She tried, in vain, to force Severus out of her head and began to write again.

" _Dear Odette,_

_I don't know if you remember me but ..."_

She paused in her writing. _But what, Circe? "We lost our virginity to each other and I spent years mending my broken heart and worrying after I never heard back from you."? Of course she'll bloody remember you._ She crossed through the line and scrunched up the paper again. Was it selfish of her to want to hear from Odette? To know she was alright and happy after all these years? Or was it even more selfish that she was using Odette as a distraction away from thinking about Severus?

_Oh God, what if she thinks I'm fishing?_

She sighed exasperatedly, feeling like she was caught between a rock and a hard place. Circe glanced up, watching Harry, Ron and Hermione natterin away in hushed whispers. Ron was gazing at Hermione like he had a golf ball in his mouth. Like he was waiting to ask something.

_Oh, buddy… You're too late. Krum got in there yesterday._

Severus slid over to them and gave them a swat around the heads for their noise. They shrunk back away from his light slaps and Circe sputtered out a singular laugh. Severus looked over to her with a frown and Circe quickly tried to disguise her noise by going back to her letter. But she still managed to catch the hint of a smile that passed over Severus's face before she was buried in the parchment again. She smiled to herself too and cleared her throat, before beginning her letter again:

" _Dear Odette,_

_Madame Maxime told me where you work and that you now have children…"_

_No, good God, that's way too creepy. Sounds like I've fucking stalked her._

Circe yawned again, and looked out with bleary eyes amongst the students. Fred was making his best attempt at asking Angelina Johnson to the Ball by throwing a paper ball at her.

 _Ahh, how romantic_. But she continued to watch with a smile as Johnson nodded eagerly back to him and Fred turned to his mates with a wide grin. _Well done, Weasley. Just make sure I don't catch you and Miss Johnson in the shadows somewhere late at night…_

"How the bloody hell did you do that?!" Ron asked, his voice cracking in that adorable teenage-boy way. But he'd said it too loud and Severus was quick to swat at his and Harry's heads again. Circe laughed again and this time she didn't bother to hide her amusement from Snape. The corner of his mouth turned up as he realised that he was making her laugh...

Circe jumped as a loud clatter echoed through the Great Hall, and Karkaroff came trotting into the space. He approached Severus slowly with a nervous look on his face. Circe watched the Durmstrang Headmaster walk amongst the rows in-between the tables looking paler and more drawn than she had ever seen him. She'd been noticing the Bulgarian man in conversation with Severus increasingly often over the last few weeks. What had started off as casual chats and conversations as Snape and Karkaroff ambled around the quad together had now turned into hurried and hushed whispers. Circe had been forced to make herself scarce when she'd been attempting to sneak some asphodel out of Severus's overflow storage cupboard for Remus, but had instead almost walked in on Karkaroff and Snape arguing rather loudly with one another. She wished she could have stayed and eavesdropped some more, but she'd had to sneak off out of sight when she'd heard Moody's lumbering steps approaching from down the corridor. Plus, she'd made it obvious to Severus that she was taking a step back, trying to avoid him, ball in his court sort of thing. That was, of course, when immature giggling wasn't exposing her…

In the silence of the Great Hall, Circe was pulled back into the here and now when she heard, very _very_ faintly at first, the whisper of a tune. It wasn't even a melody, too quiet for notes to be formed, but she looked around for who was making it, in case it was one of her students. She listened closely…

" _Ra ra Rasputin_

_Lover of the Russian queen_

_There was a cat that really was gone..._ "

The noise grew louder until she could distinguish the voices.

_Fred and bloody George!_

" _Ra ra Rasputin!_

_Russia's greatest love machine_

_It was a shame how he carried on."_

"Oh! Mlukvay, Zatvaryay si ustata! I'm not Russian, I'm Bulgarian!" Karkaroff shouted at the twins irritably. He turned on his heels in a huff, abandoning his conversation with Snape and striding back out of the room.

" _Ra ra Rasputin!_

_Lover of the Russian queen_

_There was a cat that really was gone._

_Ra ra Rasputin_

_Russia's greatest love machine_

_It was a shame how he carried on!"_ The twins stood up and hollered it into the air.

Circe snorted with laughter again. They'd been doing this now for a few weeks: following round the Headmaster singing that song just to get on his nerves. Whatever little genius had brought Boney M to the MMAP meetings deserved a medal. And this song was somehow perfect for Fred and George; it fit their energies perfectly. And then of course, Circe had shown them both a picture of the real Rasputin and one "hey, that looks like Karkaroff"'s later, they were off to torment the Bulgarian Headmaster.

"Detentions, both of you!" Snape shouted. "To my office immediately."

The twins left the room with a dance and a caper, repeating the chorus of the song over and over again as the students gathered began to clap along. Circe was in too much of a fit of giggles to do anything to discipline them.

"Silence!" Snape roared and the children shrunk away from his fury and reluctantly back down to their work.

Circe's smile lingered on her face as Snape locked eyes with her again. It suddenly hit her in a wave just how potently sexual and alluring he was.

_Not unlike Rasputin himself…_

Before, when Circe had studied Russia history, she'd marveled at how any high born Moscow ladies would even consider fucking Rasputin. Now, she sort of got it. That draw, that darkness, those mesmeric eyes.

Hermione got up sharply from her table and uttered something haughty and angry at the boys.

"And I said yes!" Circe just about heard her say. She handed her books to Severus and stormed out of the room, leaving Harry and Ron chattering away in her wake.

 _Obviously something Yule Ball related,_ she wondered. But Potter and Weasley were talking too loud now, and Snape looked at them sharply and then back at Circe with an expression that screamed "shall I?". Circe too glared at Harry and Ron, not concentrating on their work, merrily discussing who to ask to the ball now Hermione was taken. She glanced back to Severus and nodded enthusiastically. Snape approached them slowly, and Circe raised a hand to her mouth to smother any giggle that might escape her, watching with wide eyes. He positioned himself at their back and the boys still didn't lower their volume, blissfully unaware of Severus's presence behind them. Severus raised one hand and tugged at his sleeve, and then the other in the same fashion, keeping them hovering in the air like a surgeon after scrub-down. Drawing out the moment because he knew Circe was watching. He looked again at Circe and she shook with suppressed laughter. He smiled too and then smacked the boys over the heads with a cracking thump.

Circe erupted into belly-aching laughter as Harry and Ron cried out.

* * *

That night Circe had a rather odd little dream of running through a Russian city, the snow under her feet and the clamour of people around. She'd struggled all afternoon to get that bloody Boney M song out of her head once the Weasley twins had sung it in the Great Hall, and now there it was again, replaying for her in all its Slavic disco glory.

The dream had taken her through the streets of Moscow, pulled along by a fervent and attentive female crowd, all of them clamoring to glimpse at a man preaching to the palpably aroused crowd of ladies. She craned to see who it was: he looked shabby, tall, long of beard, darkest ebony hair, dressed in a peasant blouse and sable boots. And whatever he was saying, he said it well; his movements were fluid, his cadence charismatic. But as soon as she'd pushed her way to the front of the crowd, he was gone. Disappeared into a nearby restaurant.

Circe followed, eager to meet the enigmatic preacher. And then somehow it was night, gypsy violins in her ears, cigar smoke and French garlic butter in the air. There was someone dancing, spinning away to the gypsy music at the center of the restaurant's floor, in the throws of ecstasy and drunkenness. A wheeling, kazackok of sickening dizziness as he spread his arms wide like a dark raven in flight. Circe approached slowly, and when the man turned to face her, she saw from the curves of his face and the look in his eye, that it was Severus. But not Severus. Rasputin!

He pulled her into a sudden and tight hold, pressing her close to him as he danced with her. The music of the gypsy violins increasing in speed and urgency, faster and faster, as the Severus-Rasputin spun her around. His eyes were flaming and hypnotic, never once leaving her face as they danced. The dream fell apart in that disjointed way dreams do and the two of them drank, and spun, and danced, and kissed in that hedonistic way the truly lost and insane do.

The last thing Circe remembered before waking up, was the Snape-Rasputin reenacting a story she must have heard some time ago when she'd read about the life of the Russian holy man. Her Severus-Rasputin jumped on a table in the middle of the restaurant, much to the scandal of the high born Dukes and Duchesses tutting and fiddling with their forks. He tugged up his shirt and clenched it in between his jaws, exposing his bare chest… and begun unbuckling his trousers. The whole restaurant gasped as out flopped the impressive manhood of the Severus-Rasputin. All, historically reported, ten inches of it.


	37. "And I thank the lord that there's people out there like you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: So, fun fact. This chapter is the first chapter I EVER wrote for this fic. I never dreamt when I wrote this scene that It would eventually spawn a 150+k story... Enjoy, my love

Circe looked herself up and down in the mirror. The dress Remus had sent to her was stunning. It was a pale blue, floor length gown with a decidedly grecian twist. It hung off her shoulders and exposed the light skin at her neck and when she walked it seemed to float behind her like wisps of delicate moonlight. She guessed that it was probably cut from chiffon, and it draped deliciously around her breasts and down her body, cinched tight around the waist and cut high to her upper thigh. Along the bodice and down her hip, the dress was decorated with a number of pale pink and claret coloured flowers, all a wonderful variety of shapes, sizes and types: cherry blossom, roses, daisies, dahlias. The vines and branches seemed to cling to her body like she were a statue of a maenad, overgrown with nature in a crumbling minoan palace. Circe finished with the sleeves again, positioning them to hang just right around her shoulders and drape the remaining fabric just right behind her. She wondered now whether it was too much. Most of the other professors seemed to be putting in a bit of an effort, but nothing too major.

She glanced down at the note Remus had sent back with the dress:

" _Dear Circe,_

 _Tonks did have to come with me. She convinced me not to buy this "hideous red thing", which I rather liked. But she was quick to instruct me what the difference was between "_ fuck me" _and "fuck me" types of dresses._

_Thanks for the wolfsbane too. Just a small request though. Less wild garlic next time you're making it, please. It rather stinks out the fridge in the shared kitchen and a few of the guest lecturers have complained…_

_Remus"_

_Too much or too little, again_. Circe thought with a smile. _Severus would make it perfectly without even thinking about it._ She wondered what Severus was doing in these moments before the ball. What special ways he was preparing himself or what plans he was concocting. Would he be combing his hair or wearing the traditional dress robes that some wizards opted for? Severus always dressed formally, would he do anything different at all? She sat at her vanity table and tried to clear her head of him as she made the last adjustments to her hair and makeup. She looked at herself, without her usual glasses, her hair tied up with a few strands of curls allowed to fall free about her neck, and for a moment she wondered whether she'd have made this much effort if she knew Severus was not going to be present. A knock came at the door and she replied with a "come in!".

Mcgonagall swept into Circe's bedroom and gasped a little. "Oh, look at you! Gosh it makes me wish I was young once more."

"Is it too much, Minerva?"

"Not at all! What is life for if not to get dressed up and feel beautiful when the occasion calls for it?"

Circe smiled and placed her simple diamond studs in her ears. "Thank you." she said to Minerva's reflection behind her.

The older woman smiled, leaning her head on the bedroom door, and picturing a time when she herself would have dressed herself up this nicely for a boy back in Caithness. "Oh.." she remembered with a start. "Your friends are here, Circe."

"Already?"

"Indeed, I sent them to the Great Hall to begin their… their…"

"Sound check."

"Quite."

Dumbledore himself had asked Circe if The Weird Sisters would consider playing at the Yule Ball, being the band that most of the young people had asked for. Perhaps the kids were playing a joke on Circe, or perhaps they just weren't aware that she was one of the guitarists, but either way, she'd asked another one of hers and Myron's mutual, musically inclined friends to come along for the evening too. She knew Myron would pitch a fit when she told him she didn't want to play tonight. There was something about being on stage in front of children she taught, children she had to discipline and mark homework for, children who she'd deducted house points from when she'd caught them having a cheeky snog in the corridors, it just didn't seem right for her to go all rock and roll in front of them. Circe rose up from her vanity table, preparing herself to break the news to Myron sooner rather than later.

She thanked Minerva and left her rooms, covering her arms with a small shawl to protect her from the cold. It was December, almost Christmas, and it was due to be another interesting holiday at Hogwarts. Most of the students were departing for home tomorrow, Christmas Eve. Circe however, had opted to stay at the castle for this bout of holiday. She hadn't had a Christmas at Hogwarts since her first year and many of the overseas students had opted to stay in Britain for the two week break, and many of their English sweethearts had also opted to stay behind with them. It was, for once, going to be a busy Hogwarts Christmas and Circe couldn't wait.

As she walked down to the Great Hall, she saw that it was snowing again. It had been snowing when her Dad and Jane had come up a few weeks ago, and they'd loved the small tour of Cullodden Circe had given them when she'd gone to meet them for the day. They'd warmed up after the tour of the white-coated battlefield by the fire of a pub as Matthew had gotten stuck into some local whiskeys whilst Jane showed Circe the purchases she'd made in the giftshop. It had been good to see her Dad again. And Matthew too was reassured that Circe seemed a little more put-together than the last time he'd waved her goodbye on Sand Bay.

Circe paused by a glassless window and watched the gently falling snow settling over the Hogwarts grounds. She watched as a group of young Hufflepuff girls ran back to their dormitories with parcels under their arms. They talked animatedly about the dresses they'd just received from their owls, giggling and discussing their 'dates' as the snow settled on their hair. She smiled to herself, thinking back to a time when she too had primped and prepared herself for the Yule Ball in Paris.

She almost moved to leave, when she spied Neville at the other end of the courtyard she was spying on, waltzing to and fro, practising his dance moves. Minerva had told her of the dancing lesson she'd given to the Gryffindors, and Circe chided herself for missing the opportunity to watch Severus at his dancing lesson with the Slytherins. She drew back from the window, wondering what he would have been like in that moment. She straightened her back and looked down her nose in that Severus-esque way, and slowed her voice into his luxurious, steady drawl.

"Quiet!" She shouted, to an empty corridor. "Now I would like to make one thing abundantly clear: this is a complete waste of time. But...Miss Parkinson, if you would…" she acted, doing her best Snape impression, extending her hand out to the empty air.

"Now, ladies, at some point in the night you will inevitably be approached by one of these testosterone ticking time bombs. In which case he should have the etiquette… to bow."

She bowed to no one, stiff backed and awkward as Severus did.

"And then you accept. Thank you, Miss Parkinson."

She raised her arms, as if beginning the waltzing position with an invisible partner.

"Hands on my shoulders, not my waist Miss Parkinson…."

She rolled her eyes, fully into her Severus impression.

"And we begin…"

Circe began waltzing with her invisible partner down the corridor, just as Neville did in the courtyard below.

"Oh, Professor, a woman such as you should never be waltzing alone." Said a heavily accented voice behind her. She gasped, turning around to see Karkaroff in a clean-white set of Ball robes, lined with soft chinchilla fur. She blushed, a little embarrassed she'd been caught in her play-acting.

"Headmaster…" she muttered, not sure where to look. "Do excuse me, I need to see to my-"

"Oh those young men in the Great Hall are your acquaintances, are they?"

"Tonight's entertainment." She nodded. "After the dancing, of course." She said with a smirk.

Karkaroff laughed at her back as she hurried away, eager to escape her embarrassment.

Myron and the others were pretty much set up by the time she arrived at the Hall. He seemed to be in conversation with the other guitarist Circe had asked to the school: a bushy-bearded bloke with red round sunglasses. Myron looked up at her as she strode over and called out:

"'Ere, Cee. This geezer seems to think he's playing tonight with us." Myron said pointing at bushy-beard.

"He is. I'm… I'm not." She said sheepishly, gesturing broadly at her dress. Myron was left a little lost for words. Circe leaned over to the other guitarist, "Thanks for coming Ali, have you all set up?"

"Just need to tune and get my amp plugged in." He responded, smiling broadly and walking away to busy himself with the various wires and plugs onstage.

"Cee, what the fuck?" Myron asked. "Why aren't you playing with us?"

"I can't, Myron! Not in front of my kids, I'd die of embarrassment. Not to mention the respect I'd lose…"

"What are you on about? You've been playing with me all across the country, any of them could have been in the crowd."

"Yeah but, that can't be helped… If I play with you tonight it'd be like I'm… fishing for "cool points"." She replied, inadvertently rewording one of Severus's attempts at an insult. It hadn't hurt her so much at the time, but it was still something from their confrontation in the rain that had stuck with her.

"You sure you don't just wanna tart yourself up to impress what's-his-face? The long-nosed git that you're still fawning over…" Myron said spitefully.

"Myron!"

"You should have told me, Cee. Perhaps I would have reconsidered performing here if you'd said playing with us would have made you "die of embarrassment"."

"Myron, it's not like that. You know what I mean. This is my job, my real job."

"And this is mine! It always has been, Cee!"

Circe had no reply. Myron sighed and looked to the floor exasperatedly.

"Alright… alright…" he sighed, glancing back up to Ali, as he waved back, guitar in hands. "Does he even know our stuff?"

"I sent him our set three weeks ago."

Myron nodded. Turning to make the last adjustments to the setup before waiting in the Staff Room for the formal dances to finish. Circe too turned to leave.

"Oh, Cee…" Myron called after her. "You look nice."

Circe smiled apologetically at Myron, and he winked back.

* * *

Severus had been unlucky enough to run into Karkaroff as he was patrolling the grounds, looking for any students trying to sneak in a quick romantic snogging session before the Ball began. Igor had been going to him in increasingly worried states, hoiking up his sleeves and showing Severus his ever increasingly throbbing Dark Mark. The man was convinced that it seemed to be growing darker with each passing day. Severus wanted to dismiss his claims, pretend like the Bulgarian was just a raving, paranoid lunatic. But each time he glanced down at his own skin, the tattoo seemed to stand out with increasing clarity, the skull's sockets growing darker, the snake wriggling back to life. That afternoon, he'd been quite alone, bathing before he dressed for the Ball, and he found he could not take his eyes off it. Forever marked, forever tainted by his mistake. He wished he could cut it out of his skin, burn it away. Perhaps Karkaroff then would stop badgering him.

"Severus, you cannot pretend this isn't happening! It's been getting clearer and clearer for months. I am becoming seriously concerned, even you can't deny it-"

"Then flee, Igor! Flee if you must." he replied rather shortly as they walked together through the snow-covered courtyards. "I'll make your excuses for you, but I'm staying here at Hogwarts. There are people here who need me."

"Don't be a fool, Severus. Your life is as good as gone, just like mine if the Dark Lord were to rise again."

"Indeed, thanks in part to your confessions to the Wizengamot." he mumbled, casting Karkaroff a bitter look.

"I did what I had to in order to save myself from a lifetime in Azkaban. You would have done the same."

"You think so, do you? And here you are, talking of running now you are faced with the possibility of dealing with the Dark Lord's retribution. Panicking like a pig in a butchers. I am not so cowardly as to run from my previous decisions."

"I wish to run not just because of my own cowardice, Severus." Igor hissed, grabbing the Potion's Master's sleeve. "But for my wife too. And my daughter, back home in Bulgaria. Do you think the Dark Lord will spare them? Of course not! Just like he will refuse to spare that pretty English thing who is in love with you."

Severus tugged his arm free of Karkaroff and sneered at him. "You know nothing, Karkaroff. Nothing!"

He strode back into the castle, his heart beating unsteadily in his chest. Something that Karkaroff had said had finally reached him, but he wasn't quite sure what it was yet. He took a few deep breaths, forcing his mind to clear of thoughts of his Dark Mark or Voldemort, pushing it all aside for tonight. Most of the students were beginning to coalesce in the Great Hall now, dressed in their finest and brightest. The girls wearing their dresses like natural duchesses and the boys in their finest dress robes. He smoothed down the tails of his own dress jacket and walked into the Hall. The room had been dressed up to look rather spectacular: the ceiling was enchanted to emanate softly falling snow that seemed to shimmer and sparkle like glitter, the main dance floor was clear for now, a few elaborately decorated tables and chairs around its perimeter, the wall draped with delicate and diaphanous blue silk hangings. And Dumbledore too had outdone himself on the nibbles: high-rising towers of precariously leaning profiteroles, flowing chocolate fountains of milk, dark and white bejewelled with plates and plates of sumptuous looking fruits, and at the center of the food-table was a four foot high ice sculpture of St Basil's Cathedral. Severus looked around the room at the faces of those gathered, nodding curtly at a few of his Slytherin students as they waited for the entrance of the champions. Severus walked over to Minerva and Dumbledore, in their little staff corner and folded his arms impatiently.

"How long until commencement?" he asked.

"Oh, Circe will give us the signal once all of the champions and their partners are gathered outside." Minerva replied as she eyed up Severus from head to toe. "New jacket, Severus?"

Severus looked back at her with a scowl, deciding not to respond.

He wasn't left waiting long for her. A few moments later, the doors to the Great Hall crept open and from in between the crack in the doors slid Circe. Severus was left almost completely breathless as he saw her for the first time that night.

_She looks like a Greek nymph. One of those lesser-goddesses of ancient times that tempted those men worthy enough to know them to their beds._

The gathered children parted around her as she made her way through the crowd, her dress floated as delicately as the falling snow in the enchanted roof above them, her eyes brighter than any of the glitter or adornments in the room. Severus realised how infantile and immature many of the girls that night looked, playing dress-up in their adult clothes for the evening. Circe was a woman, an achingly beautiful, divinely exquisite, woman. Circe caught him in his staring, and he was too captivated by her to even attempt to look away. She smiled at him as she approached and he wished that he could have lived in that exquisite moment, or have kept that image of her in his mind's eye forever; so perfect, so lovely was she.

Minerva eyed up his slack-jawed admiration with a titter, and she motioned to Filch concealed in the wings with Circe's gramophone and an old waltzing piece. The champions entered not long after Circe had taken her place beside the other staff and they watched as Harry, Cedric, Fleur and Krum commenced the waltz. Circe watched with a bright smile as Hermione, normally a little gawkish and ungainly, seemed to dance in Krum's arms as gracefully as a swan. She swelled with pride too as she watched her Cho opposite Cedric waltzing like a natural, but Harry seemed a little unsure on his feet. She giggled slightly as Potter stepped right on poor Parvati's foot. After a smatter of applause, Dumbledore and Minerva were gracing the dance floor and soon they were joined by more brave followers. Circe could tell that Severus's eyes were on her, she could practically feel him scanning his eyes down her neckline.

 _Ask me to dance, Severus._ She begged internally. She watched as Draco led his partner Miss Parkinson onto the floor and imagined again the little scenario she had dreamt up earlier of Severus teaching the Slytherins to waltz. She began to feel a little jealous of Miss Parkinson…

Severus was still stood firmly rooted at Circe's side. A looming, black presence beside her, like a raven on her shoulder.

_If Albus and Igor are right… then perhaps it would be nice to have someone to stand beside as the storm rages. Igor married… I didn't know Igor had married. He dared to love, despite what he did._

He was completely unable to stop his hand at his side from twitching with restlessness. It ached to reach out to her, brush her shoulder, take her hand in his and waltz with her, eye to eye, chest to chest, spinning together as one. If he could just be brave enough. Be the un-cowardly man he claimed to be and reach out to her and lead her to the dancefloor as his…

But then Karkaroff was before her, extending a hand out to her.

"A woman such as you should never waltz alone." he repeated to her with a grin. "And I aim to remedy that. Would you care to dance?"

Circe couldn't help but glance back at Severus, but in an instant he cast his eyes evasively to the floor, as if he'd never intended to do anything. She looked back to Karkaroff swiftly and smiled politely, before taking his hand in acceptance. Severus bubbled with jealousy as he watched Circe and Igor glide effortlessly to the rhythm of the waltz, his hand poised on her waist, their fingers intertwined. And thus it went on, song after song, dance after dance. Severus would spend a tense few moments watching her from across the room with agonising yearning and longing, trying desperately to summon up his courage to ask her to dance, and then some other lucky soul would get there before him.

Severus took to sulking for the rest of the waltzes at the staff table. Minerva approached him, slumped in his high-backed chair, watching with a vicious scowl as Circe danced with one of the Durmstrang boys. She cleared her throat and Severus stiffened slightly at her presence as she'd quite snuck up on him.

"You look like a bear with a sore head, Severus." she said a little too jovially for him.

"I am merely bemoaning the utter waste of school funds and efforts this pointless little soiree has been." he responded flatly as she took a seat beside him.

"Oh right, is that why you've not taken your eyes off Circe then all evening?" she asked coquettishly. As Severus wheeled around to face her in shock, he sighed and slumped further back into his chair.

"Is it really that obvious, Minerva?"

"As plain as the nose on your face… to those who knew to look, of course."

"And how did you know to look?" he asked with an exasperated sigh.

"Peonies and blushed suede perfume, chocolate yule log, and Quidditch pitch mud." she responded simply.

"Oh God..." he grumbled, burying his face in his hands. "Amortentia in that blasted cauldron…"

"Your time is running out to make a move, Severus." the Gryffindor Head of House said reproachfully, she too watching Circe spin like a ballerina, going from one partner to the next.

"Minerva, you don't know the half of it…" Severus grumbled.

The waltz ended and the lights in the Hall dimmed to a low, atmospheric the back of the room, the stage lit up, revealing the set and prepared instruments for The Weird Sisters. The children all began chattering in hushed voices, craning their heads to the stage and muttering their confusions to one another.

"HOGWARTS, ARE YOU READYYYY!?" a shout came from the darkness. The students rushed forward to the stage front, jostling and clamouring for a place to watch. Then from the pooling dry ice, on walked Myron and the rest of the band. And the room was filled with screams.

"GIMMIE A SHOUT IF YOU'RE READY FOR SOME REAL MUSIC, HOGWARTS!" Myron screamed into his mic stand. The amassed crowd roared back, all civilised etiquette and poise that they had portrayed during the waltzes instantly gone.

"WE'RE THE WEIRD SISTERS… AND THIS IS 'DO THE HIPPOGRIFF'!"

* * *

As The Weird Sisters set had wound down, and they'd gone through their third and fourth encores, a few couples of students and teachers still hung relentlessly on, keeping the magical evening going on the dancefloor. Circe had run up to her room and brought back down a few of Remus's old vinyls to play on her gramophone for the slow-dancers. It was ever so sweet, watching them sway in each other's arms to the tunes Circe put on. But eventually, even the last of the couples dissipated and left, off to bed with spinning heads and aching feet, the last of which being Neville and Ginny. Myron and the others had packed up their equipment and instruments in the blink of an eye and they lingered behind in the now empty hall, discussing a post-gig pint down in Hogsmeade before they all headed off home for Christmas. Circe looked at her watch as she waved the other band members goodbye, thanking Ali in particular for stepping up for her tonight. It was gone three o clock in the morning, and she yawned.

Myron approached her cautiously, carrying his guitar case at his side, and laying it on the floor to give Circe one last goodbye hug.

"You were brilliant, mate." Circe said diplomatically. Myron liked praise. "As always."

"Woulda been better if you were up there with us." he grumbled. "So…? Anything happen with Beaky?"

Circe felt oddly emotional, partly from fatigue, partly from Severus's snubbing of her all evening. "Myron, don't call him that."

He rolled his eyes. "Well, did it?!" he asked again shortly.

She shook her head. "There were times when I thought it might. It felt so close… But no… nothing."

"Then, you move on." Myron said with a sigh.

Circe's eyes clouded over at Myron's seriousness. There were no jokes this time, no banter, just brutal honesty. One friend telling another to sever the thing that they clung to. "And wait even longer for him to come back?" she asked helplessly, remembering what Myron had said to her at the Quidditch World Cup.

"No, Cee. I think that time has passed. Just move on. He's had plenty of time."

She nodded solemnly, trying to fight back the tears that were springing up in her eyes. She knew Myron was right, but it still hurt nonetheless. Myron gave her a pat on the shoulder and looked at her with pitying eyes.

"Bye Myron." she said, the tiredness in her voice. "Thanks again for tonight."

"No problem, Cee. See you next week." he picked up the last of his cables and his guitar case, striding out of the ballroom.

Circe was left by herself in the deserted room. The glitter of the chandelier still played off the now empty dance floor. She surveyed the empty glasses, half eaten food and leftover chaos of the ball around her. The beautiful ice sculpture of St Basil's Cathedral that had been at the centre of the feast now partially melting. The last of the student's voices and giggles faded away. This would be quite a cleanup operation.

She couldn't face bed. Couldn't face being on her own after what her and Myron had just spoken of. Life after Severus was something that daunted her. An existence that did not, in part, revolve around him. Her mind was burning with questions about her future, all of which she didn't have the stomach to tackle. She missed the music. If she was going to be there all night then she could have some light entertainment. Walking over to the side of the dancefloor, she began toying with Remus's huge conical gramophone again. A big box of his records sat next to it, half open, having already gone through quite a few of them already that evening.

 _I really should have listened to these sooner. He had much more than just old jazz stuff in here._ She thought to herself. _Still, at least he left me my entertainment._ She waved her wand and the vinyl sleeves fluttered as she thumbed through the albums. She stopped on one and magically lifted it out of the box and onto the turntable. One more wand flick and the needle was down, playing Elton John.

Snape had just finished ushering the last of the Slytherins back to the common room. He reached the top of the stairs to the dungeons, deciding he'd make one last circle of the Great Hall for any stragglers. He caught the end of a song playing from the ballroom and stopped. His feet moved slowly down the corridor towards the doors of the Great Hall, hearing someone shuffling around inside. This was his mother's favorite album…

"I shall say goodnight, Severus." said a voice at his back.

Mcgonagall startled him, and he wheeled around catching her standing right behind him.

"Who-who's still in the Great Hall?" he asked, just able to contain his surprise. _That woman is everywhere…_ he thought to himself.

"Professor Smith. She was just seeing the band off, doing a bit of a clean up… on her own..." Mcgonagall laboured on the last words and raised a telling eyebrow.

"Goodnight, Minerva…" Snape replied pointedly. She gave him one last bow and turned around walking up the corridor.

Snape looked back towards the Great Hall door, briefly catching a glimpse of Circe's blue dress through the small opening as she moved around inside. His heart caught in his throat. He did not consciously tell his feet to move, but before he could think, he was at the door and inside the empty room. Empty of all but her.

The last song came to an end as the needle passed over the grooves and silence fell. The first gentle notes of ' _Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters'_ started to play as she finally turned around from her busy work and saw him standing in the threshold. She too stopped dead in her tracks and for a brief second, they both just looked at eachother.

"Come to help with the cleanup?" she finally broke the silence.

"I-uh- yes…." he fumbled, moving towards her. "I mean, no." She looked at him, confused. "I came to ask you something…Something I've been meaning to ask all night."

"Yes?" she asked, rather impatiently. Having caught him staring quite a few times that night, she was rather annoyed with him. Her words with Myron earlier had confirmed in her mind that she should bitterly abandon any hope of something happening between them. But in the silence that followed her question, she dared to hope. A small, last flicker. Severus's heart thumped in his chest. After a deep sigh, he finally spoke again.

"Would you care to dance?"

The shock was apparent on her face. He reached out his hand limply and for an electrifying moment the tips of his fingers brushed against her wrist. For an agonising second his hand hung there and every doubt that he had ever thought flashed through his mind in an instant. She knew her voice would fail her, so she just nodded. Her hand fell, almost naturally into the curves of his palm.

His fingers closed around her and he hastily led her to the dancefloor. His nervousness was apparent. Circe felt glad that he had turned away before he caught her blush and she quietly acknowledged actually how glad she was that she didn't have the whole school as an audience for this moment.

They faced each other, hands still locked. Circe felt the breath in her lungs leave her body as he moved close to her, and his other hand slid tentatively around her waist. She forgot how to breathe for a moment. The two of them began to sway to the melody, already seemingly synchronized with each other. The music was perfect and soft and gentle….

"My-er-mother loved Elton." It was such a shocking phrase to come from Snape's mouth, it temporarily shook Circe from her breathless trance.

"What…? No way…"

"No it's true. Elton John's a half-blood. His Mother was a witch."

"Wow I never knew…" she smiled at him. _I guess it makes sense… You don't wear outfits like that without a touch of magic in you…_ She thought. "You told me, when we first met, that you didn't know any music." she said with a small smile.

"Well, I suppose I was slightly hyperbolic in my summation there." he replied, returning her smile. "The more one listens, the more one starts to recognise certain things... A tune here, a song there, a voice elsewhere…"

"Music in memory."

"Indeed. All your fault."

"Of course."

He chuckled, low and steady. "He was one of the only muggle musicians my mother would listen to. She used to play this song from the kitchen on her battered old radio, and I'd wake up on Sunday mornings to the smell of her making coffee and father-" He stopped himself. She would have been perfectly happy to let him continue losing himself in his memories, but alas no. It made her realise just how little she actually knew about him.

He cleared his throat. "You look lovely tonight."

That almost turned her legs to jelly beneath her. "Thank you."

"Like a Nymph-"

That made her brow furrow.

"I-I don't mean like a Nympho... I mean a Nymph. From Greek myth.. You know, because of your dress-"

She couldn't help but laugh as he stumbled over himself. Once he realised he hadn't offended her, he too smiled slightly. A small nervous laugh escaped him.

"I haven't heard you laugh for a long time, Severus."

"Because I lately rarely have cause to." He said flatly. She felt him tense up, part of his wall rebuilding around him.

 _No! Don't do that!_ He thought to himself. _Not after you've come this far…_

"But you do…" he added hastily. "You make me laugh… and drive me to absolute despair and everything in between." He locked eyes with her, black obsidian meeting a brilliant emerald. "I find myself, quite possibly against my better judgement, being quite captivated by you…"

The comment sat there in the dead space between them. Circe felt light headed, dizzy… and not from the swaying.

"Severus…" was all she could manage. She was convinced he could feel her heart beating from where he stood. He looked down at her rosy lips, then back into the green of her eyes. A strong urge overtook him and he found himself kissing her.

His lips were so soft, and she completely fell apart in his arms. His hand ran up her bare shoulders and to the nape of her neck, setting her goosebumps ablaze. The kisses grew, fiercer and harder. Time stopped, everything stopped until there was nothing but them and ' _Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters'_.

Until he suddenly pulled away…

Circe felt like a newborn separated from their umbilical cord. She looked questioningly into his face and saw sheer panic. Her brow furrowed and her vision became blurred with tears. She reached out a hand to him as he had done only moments before, but he recoiled.

"I -I'm sorry…" And he was gone, practically fleeing from the ball room. Leaving her sobbing quietly on her own, frozen in place.


	38. "You need to find a way for what you wanna say."

Chapter 38 - "You need to find a way for what you wanna say."

Circe was still sitting in her blue Ball gown, curled up in a chair in her conservatory, when the dawn light crept through the clear glass. She hadn't slept all night, her head too full of unanswered questions and the ghost of a kiss on her lips. She'd cried off all of her makeup and her face and chest were streaked with black mascara. She watched as many of the plants around her opened up their bright faces and turned to the sun whilst she loathed its presence.

_I have tried… I have tried so hard. Maybe he just thinks I'm just not worth the effort. I'm just some silly little nobody of no consequence who will never be his equal._

She rose up from the chair and undid it at its back. It fell off her shoulders and she hurried to her room, letting the dress slip to the floor in a heap. She washed her face and dressed in her normal clothes, deciding to take a walk around Hogwarts.

_For the last time, before I give Dumbledore my notice._

She'd made the decision to leave Hogwarts; the thought of staying around or even remotely near Severus after last night filled her with unbearable pain. She didn't want to be one of those sad girls who spends their life pining away over a man who isn't interested in them or just looks straight through them. She couldn't be the Sonya of 'War and Peace'. She couldn't release Severus from her affections whilst she cheerfully minded her own business in the background. There would be no one else whilst there was him. And she may eventually grow to live with that realisation, if she were not here.

 _He'll forget about me eventually._ She thought as she strode out into a beautifully snowy winter wonderland. _If he didn't want me as myself. Me pretending to be no one else. Then, I'll fade from his mind eventually. At least I was always myself. And I won't cheapen myself by being someone I'm not. I know when I've lost a war._

She did not attempt to hide her tears as she thought of Severus's apologetic mutters and frightened eyes last night.

_Why was he sorry? Sorry I wasn't what he wanted? Sorry he isn't what I want? Because you are, Severus. You are everything I want. And you could have all of me if you wanted. But do you want it?_

Circe wandered out towards the highland hills, wondering how far she could walk until she just collapsed with exhaustion. She was already quite a fair distance from Hogwarts, and as she crested a hill she glanced back, judging she must have gone at least a mile already. She felt as if her body was travelling at a frightening speed through space and time and her poor head was struggling to keep up. She was a jet plane on autopilot mode. Filled with a compulsion. A compulsion just to keep walking because what else was there?

_Stop it, stop thinking like that. He's just a man. A stupid, lonely, broken, sarcastic, brilliant, brave, stubborn man._

She felt the bubble of a sob rise up in her chest and she sat down in the snow and cried as she looked back at the castle. There was no one around to see her and no one around to hear her cries either. Glad for the moment to just weep alone, and also desperate for someone to come to her and give her comfort.

* * *

Severus sat at the end of his bed, in almost a catatonic state of utter grief. He too had not slept for the entirety of the night, but unlike Circe he had no way of telling when the sickly light of dawn came. His hands were still shaking. His lips still burned.

_You fool. Why did you leave her there? Like that? After everything she's come to mean to you. After all the mistakes you've made already._

The darkness of his rooms seemed thick and heavy. Oppressive around him. Smothering any cries for help he may utter. Nobody able to hear him. And this was the life to which he had condemned himself. He craved noise, anything to bring an end to the silence that threatened to envelop him.

"Because, mother…" he said unprompted and rather suddenly to the empty air. "I left her because I could not condemn her to this life too. Hiding, misery, fretting. The Dark Lord's domain of desolation, it destroys all light and life. I've lived too long in it, but she can be saved.. I could not subjugate her to that. " He glanced up through his hair and almost began weeping anew when he saw Eileen Prince's face in its frame.

 _What would become of her if the Dark Lord does return? If he is out there, convalescing, reforming somewhere. What would become of her because of her simple association with me already?_ He hung his head low again, feeling utterly wretched.

"I love her, mother. I would keep her safe from harm above all others." he wept. He wished now, more than ever, that his mother was still here so he could ask her what to do in his hour of need. He missed her dearly, and his heart ached with remembering the way she'd stroke his hair when he cried or the simple but firm tone her voice took on when she was attempting to tell him off. "I couldn't even keep _you_ safe from my brute of a father." he uttered through violent shakes of sobs.

Eileen's eyes said nothing now. But he imagined what she might say back to him had she been alive and sitting opposite him. The way they'd often talk in his bedroom at Spinner's End, she sat on his blankets at the end of his bed and he leaning against the bare wall, propped up with a single pillow. Trying to put the world to right between them.

"I love her because, well… she's stubborn, headstrong, argumentative, fiercely intelligent, she lets me get away with nothing, she's wonderful, beautiful, possesses a marvellous capacity for kindness, and she makes me feel like I am not so utterly and painfully alone."

He stood up and began pacing his room.

"Well, if she were to leave tomorrow…" he said, again to the unresponsive photograph. "I would become a shadow again. She would take all music, and fire and … magic... with her. Bereft of all life and warmth. Crying out for her with every fibre of my being. I would carry on in body, but in spirit I would be dead."

 _A world without her._ The thought made him shiver.

 _But just for a moment..._ Eileen Prince asked him. _Imagine a world with her, son._

"A world with her… would make me happy."

_Then you would be a fool to let that go, my boy._

* * *

By the late morning, Circe was reluctantly allowing her feet to lead her back to the castle. Her initial sadness was now morphing into anger.

_He cannot treat people like this, he needs to know that I am not a plaything to mess about with when the mood takes him. I'm not made of stone. No matter how much I wish I was now._

Circe thought of storming into Severus's domain, his protective little cave where he hid himself from the outside world, shutting himself away from his consequences. She thought of all of those stolen moments and heated kisses with him. The way her tongue danced with his in the rain, the feel of his hand around her neck in the storage cupboard, his chest pressed against her back and his breath setting her skin on edge as they'd made the mandrake draft. Were they all just seized upon opportunities for him to get some easy action? A quick thrill? Did he ache for her nearly as intently as she did for him?

 _Was I just somebody ready and available and there?_ Circe thought bitterly. It hurt to think of Severus in that way, and a part of her knew it wasn't true and she was just upset, but it felt easier to be angry with him. Anger felt better than sadness did. She wanted to shout. Scream at him. Tell him how hurt and used she felt.

 _He hasn't used you, stop seeing villains where there are none._ She chided herself. _But he has destroyed me, in the most beautiful way possible. He's utterly taken me apart. And now I have to start the long slog to endeavour to put myself back together._

She didn't want to cry again, but she felt her face becoming moistened with tears again. As she passed through the clock tower courtyard, she cast a glance at the time, and sighed. If she were to be gone and home for Christmas, she'd have to leave soon.

_Oh God, what am I going to tell Dad and Jane? They're not expecting me. And I don't think I could bear to relay everything to him. Would he understand? Fuck, do I even understand?_

Circe sniffed and wiped her nose with a sleeve. She hid behind a pillar as a group of Ravenclaw girls and their Durmstrang sweethearts passed by. Hearing their collection of elated giggles and happy conversation was a cruel little jab at Circe's heart. As the group wandered off for a walk, arms linked cordially together, Circe marveled at how easy love came to the young, how naive and unspoilt and fearless they were with their hearts.

 _I suppose I better tell him I'm going, and he probably won't see me again._ She thought grimly.

* * *

"Alright so if the Dark Lord does return and Karkaroff is right and Circe is put into danger like Lily was. What then? What do I do?" Severus continued, still mentally working through his fears and barriers, as Elieen's photograph continued to listen. His feet were aching with the amount of pacing he'd done. He'd worked his way through every possible future and every possible scenario with his mother's memory talking him through it. But ultimately it came to this: if Circe was put in danger because of he, then what? It was a thought he couldn't quite see through, a thought that made his stomach drop: if the Dark Lord rose again, and he forced back into the role of spy, then what would he do?

_You remember who you are. Who I raised you to be._

"What? A turncoat? A two faced Janus? I'm no less vile than most of those wizards and witches still rotting in Azkaban. I'm no different." Severus muttered miserably. "Is that the man she wants?"

_You are different to them, Severus, because of your capacity to love. Do not build walls around your heart because of them. They whisper a name of servitude into the night. You have the power to make the name you whisper one of love. They are motivated by fear, let yourself be motivated by love, Severus._

Severus paused as his mind went quiet. Suddenly the light seemed to shine through the clouds and his head cleared. He cast a look at his mother's photograph and muttered quietly to himself. "I'm just talking to myself aren't I." he smiled sadly and walked over to his desk. He reached out a tentative hand and stroked the frame lovingly. "Everything you've said is what I myself think."

_Absolutely._

"Oh God, I need to find her."

Severus burst out of his room and his door banged against the walls of the dungeon. Yet he froze immediately in place as he spied , from down the corridor, Circe looking tired and red-eyed.

"You!…. I need to just say one last thing before I go!" she spluttered, marching towards him with indignant tears of rage already in her eyes.

"I was coming to find you…" he breathed, panic rising in his throat.

"I'm leaving, Severus. I can't stay here… I...I can't just pretend that nothing ever happened and it all meant nothing to me..." her resolve fell, the tears falling down her face. Circe was embarrassed at herself that he had this much of an effect on her emotions. She wiped her cheeks looking away. He looked paler than normal, eyes wide like a panicked deer.

"Circe, you… you can't leave. I beseech you, I ask you to-"

"I didn't ask you to dance, I didn't ask you to come to my show… I'm not a toy that you can pick up and drop whenever you feel like it, Severus-"

"Please, just listen to me!" he said, rushed, stopping her dead in her tracks. Silence followed for a few seconds as he stared into her arresting green eyes. "I- I'm not good at this… I don't know what...how to say it…"

Circe was a little shocked. This isn't how she'd pictured their last conversation going. It had all rather been turned on its head by the look in Severus's eyes. She'd gone down to the dungeons with an intention of saying goodbye, and in a few tense seconds that had all changed.

"Try, Severus." She said in desperation. "You need to find a way to say it. Or… I'm done with whatever this was."

The moment was here. He took a deep breath, staring down at his pale hands. She followed his gaze down and saw the trembles in his fingers.

 _Is he scared?_ She thought to herself. _The great fearsome Potions Master that made the first years cry…Scared? Of me?_

He looked back into her face and she caught the full blast of his black eyes. For a moment her anger melted away and there was nothing but him and her.

He inhaled shakily, the obvious struggle written across his face, staring at his shoes. No one was going to say this for him. He had to forge this arrow to the heart himself. And then finally he spoke…

"I want you…. And I want you to want me too. I have run from this for too long. Perhaps because I am scared- terrified- of what you make me feel or what you could possibly see in someone as worthless as me…"

She stood there silent. Breathless.

"...I have lashed out, pushed you away, behaved like an insufferable, spiteful fool. And I am so, so sorry….Because you make me feel things and think things that I believed I would never feel again. That makes me weak, vulnerable. Because losing you like I lost Lily would... " His voice trailed off, thick with emotion. He took a minute to compose himself and then continued… "I have nothing to offer you but a broken, faded man…"

Finally he looked up into Circe's face, the tears freely falling down her face now. "...But if you want me, you can have whatever's left of me."

There was nothing else in her head other than the thought to kiss him.

Almost without thinking her lips were on his, arms around his neck. Severus half jumped back with the initial shock, his back hitting the door frame to his bed chambers. As she refused to draw away from him, he melted into her too, finally relinquishing and kissing her back. She felt a small sob from his chest as his kiss became more urgent, like a great release had escaped from him. His hands went into her hair and to the small of her back, pressing her close against his body. For a few moments they shared the fervent bliss of each other, all the while getting more desperate and longing. Both of their tears merging together on each other's cheeks. Severus reached behind him and clumsily unlocked the door to his room, letting the two of them fall inside, and shutting the rest of the world out.

There was no halt for breath inside the room. Severus lifted her up into his arms as her legs wrapped around his waist. They barely had a thought as to where this was going. It just happened, like the natural flow of a river. He carried her over to his bed, hands cupped under her, and lay her flat on the mattress. She slid her fingers under his black doublet, meticulously unbuttoning each fastening. Severus' hands worked independent of him, already having torn her blouse apart revealing her white skin beneath and her round breasts still in her underwear. His hips were pressed against hers and she could feel his hardness against her groin. She ached for him. He pulled apart from her for a moment, a coy smile on his face.

"Having trouble?" He breathed. She was still fumbling away at his buttons.

"Just a little." She laughed "You do have rather a lot of these…"

Without a word he grabbed his wand from the bedside table and gave it a small wave. The buttons came apart seamlessly, all the way down to his navel. "I shall leave the last one up to you." He said quietly, setting every nerve of her body on edge with his quiet purr. As her finger hooked under the last tantalizing button on his jacket, their lips met once again. The rest of their clothes fell away from them as the hungryness picked up pace once more. A small gasp of delight escaped from her mouth as Severus' hand slipped underneath her bra, followed quickly by his mouth at her nipple. Her sounds of delight seemed to heighten his arousal too as she felt a throb between her legs from him.

Almost reading her thoughts of her wanting of him, he took his member out and slid it inside her for the first time. He watched her face form into the 'o' of pleasure as she received him inside her. Once again he lost himself in her as his urge to thrust took over. Each stroke, achingly slow, built up their mutual pleasure, until each of them was completely lost in the rhythm. Her fingers dug into his back as she reached her climax, whispering his name into his ear, her pussy tightening around him. That was enough to send him over the edge too. He spilt himself into her, his forehead pressed against her. It was all over rather quickly.

For a second all there was was their ragged breaths as they both basked in the afterglow. Severus cupped her face in his hand, giving her one last kiss before sliding off next to her. For a long time they both stared at the bed canopy above them not daring to spoil the moment with speech. Slowly, she lay her head on his chest, resting her arm on his stomach. To her surprise he too enclosed his arm around her shoulder, taking her hand on his stomach in his. His breath eventually slowed and steadied and the two just lay there in each others arms for what could have been an eternity. Severus became so still that she thought he must have fallen asleep. Until he suddenly spoke...

"I love you." He said finally. "If I didn't make that clear before we…"

"I love you too." Her voice was firm and unwavering.

He turned his head to her until their noses touched. His black eyes swam with emotion. For a moment he seemed lost in her as a small sad smile crossed his face. "I'm sorry…" he hoarsely whispered.

"For what?"

"Everything...everything…. For the absolute imbecile I have been… Just know that I am yours for as long as you want me, Circe."

"And you are mine. For today, tomorrow, and as far into the future that I can see. I am yours and you are mine."

* * *

They must have fallen asleep holding each other. Many hours later Circe woke up in Severus' bed. She did a double take at that thought. _I woke up in Severus' bed_. It was difficult for her to tell how many hours had passed in the dungeons of the castle but perhaps it felt like the early evening?

Severus was not there. She felt an ache in her chest as she realised that. Circe sat up in the bed and looked around the room. It was exactly the type of bachelor's pad she pictured Severus would have. Heavy oak furniture with the signature Slytherin green upholstery was dotted about the room. A small wooden desk sat by his door, littered with parchments, bottles, symbols of arcana, and a small black and white photograph of an older woman. It was a complete mess, not what she expected from a man so calm and collected as Snape. Had he lifted her up onto it on their way over to the bed? She couldn't remember, but the memory made her blush. She smiled to herself.

_A memory. Not a dream. It happened. It really happened._

Opposite the bed sat a tall wardrobe with an old stained mirror on the door. _Where he keeps his black robes and his black cloak and his black shoes and his black doublet with too many freaking buttons!_ She thought to herself. Circe glimpsed herself in its murky reflection, sitting up in his bed. Soft candlelight played off its surface and for a moment she lingered on the thought of waking up to this reflection every day.

There were books everywhere. She counted at least three bookshelves, each shelf chocked full to the point that some sagged in the middle from the weight of the tomes. Perched on the end of some shelves were a variety of trinkets and prizes. Obsidian crystal, good for absorbing negative energy. Bunches of dried herbs. _A shrunken head?!_

In the corner of the room there was an inviting, large armchair that looked worn with use. She could imagine Severus spending many a brooding night in it. She heard running water…

Another door hidden behind a bookshelf showed her the source of the sound: a bathroom. She picked up one of Severus' black numbers and wrapped it hastily around herself, hurrying to the door. She peered around the door into the biggest bathroom she had ever seen. Circe had never seen the prefect's bathroom, but this was what she imagined it to be like. It was almost bigger than Snape's bedroom! Gorgeous light streamed in from floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows. An ornate toilet and sink were in one corner, but covering most of the floor space was a huge pool. A gargoyle statue sat in front of the colored glass, spewing warm water and bubbles from his mouth into the pool beneath, and with his back to her, reclining as the water lapped up to his chest, was Severus.

He turned to face her as she gasped at the space. "Did I wake you?"

"Severus this is incredible." She breathed, ignoring his question. "Gosh this puts the freestanding bath Minerva and I share to shame."

"Dumbledore owed me. I demanded this room when I took the Potions Master position here. There was no way I was going to bunk with Fillius."

Circe laughed. A slight smile seemed to cross Severus' face too. "Would you care to join me..?" He asked coquettishly. She didn't answer, simply let the black garnement concealing her body drop to the floor. He watched every move as she walked over to the edge of the pool and lowered herself in. Snape's hand moved through the water grabbing Circe's wrist and pulling her playfully into his lap. The water splashed as she nestled her back against his chest and let his arms fold around her again. Her head leaned back and she let the warmth of the water and his body relax her muscles.

"We have a lot to discuss." He started.

"We do."

"A lot of time to make up…"

"Yes."

There was a pause for a moment, then Severus continued "It's funny, I have so much I want to say-...to tell you...but I can't think…"

"Why don't you start with what you're thinking right now?"

He paused again. "Well, I'm rather embarrassed... It was all over rather quickly. From my part, I mean..."

Circe spluttered and he felt her laughing in his embrace. "Well… it's to be expected after the rather long preamble of us actually… you know, getting round to _it_. If you were as pent up as I was."

Severus blushed and nodded silently. "It still all feels rather like a dream to me. Well no, not a dream… a poem or one of those great epics of mythology. I feel rather like I've abducted you and brought you down to my underground realm. Some hideous pre-Christian deity who steals a young maiden from the glorious, bucolic summer fields of the world above."

"You the Hades and me the Persephone?"

"And I don't even have a pomegranate for you." he said dryly.

"Ahh, but have you ever considered that Persephone wanted the fruits herself too. It's a mistranslation, the word 'abducted' in Hesiod's original hymn. Persephone went willingly: _The lady loved him and the kingdom they shared._ "

"No regrets then?" Severus asked, a momentary flash of panic skimming over his eyes.

"None. I wanted the pomegranate, I wanted the underworld, I wanted you."

Severus gazed at her with an intensity that made her heart cry. He kissed her. Deeply. Again and again. Each time their lips met his kiss was embossed with his long-repressed longing for her. He drew apart from her, just to reaffirm this was all real: that she was still there, in his arms, as naked as the open sky, completely his as he was hers. "Well, if we're sticking with the rather tasteless Hades and Persephone metaphor, we have a whole winter to… try again, my love." he added with a wicked grin as his hands roamed over her wet skin.

Circe closed her eyes, revelling in the intimacy of his touch. "Ohh. You know… I don't think I'll ever tire of hearing that from your lips, Severus."

"What?"

"My love." she breathed, touching her nose to his. A shiver of delight passed through him.

"I meant it. Did you?" he asked tentatively.

"I did."

"And you'll stay? You'll stay here with me?" he asked again as his eyes glinted with a lightning fast flash of anxious yearning. He remembered her hasty words of leaving Hogwarts before his stumbling confession and his guts twisted when he thought of Circe's possible absence from his life after everything that had transposed between them.

"Of course I'm bloody staying, you silly git." she said, almost a whisper.

She could tell he wanted to say something. So she waited patiently and watched the light of the coloured glass play off the water. "Have you been in love before…?" he asked eventually.

She paused, before answering in a small voice "Yes." She wanted to be honest. "Does that bother you?"

Severus breathed in deeply before answering "Perhaps it would have before. Now? No. you had a life before Hogwarts. Before me. Do you want to tell me about them?"

"Well, you already know about Odette. She was the first person I told I loved. That was about thirty minutes before Maxime walked in on her and I getting _very_ closely acquainted."

Severus groaned, gripping her closer to him. "Oh yes, that little delicious nugget you dropped nonchalantly at the feast."

"Did it surprise you?" she giggled.

"Yes. and I very rarely ever admit to being surprised."

"Oh, then I shall consider myself lucky." Circe said sardonically.

"And were there others?"

"They were muggle boys. One Welsh lad that I met after University in the bright warm summer. We dated for three years, dumped me a week before I was due to quit my job and move in."

"Bastard."

"Mmmm. The other was a sweet boy from Bath. I adored him, felt like he was the love of my life. But he'd always had mental health issues. I think I helped him for a time and he believed he was okay, but… it came back with a vengeance and, well.. Let's just say the last I heard from him he was in a hospital in Bristol."

"I'm sorry."

She didn't answer for a while. "And you?" With Lily…?"

For the first time in the conversation Circe felt a reluctance from Severus. "Yes."

"You don't have to say-"

"No, I want to." He said resolutely. "I grew up loving her. I didn't just wake up one day in love, it was always there….And watching her fall for James Potter, one of my tormentors, was...crushing."

"That's why you joined Him…" Circe said, lifting Severus' left wrist out of the water, exposing his Dark Mark. It was the first time she'd seen it for herself, he was always so careful to keep it hidden. His muscles tensed as she passed an exploratory finger over it. Severus tried to stop his mind from wandering to thoughts of "was it darker?" or "was it ever so faintly burning?". This moment was for he and Circe, no one else. To hell with anyone or anything that might come and spoil it all later. For now, he just wanted to relish this moment with her. It was natural of course that she had questions but it had all circled back to Voldemort and dark topics so quickly. Still, there was no point keeping things from her. That ship had sailed. And he resolved never to hide anything from her again.

"Yes.. But it's also Lily that brought me back…. When Dumbledore told me she and her son were being hunted by Voldemort, when he learnt of the Prophecy, I came back to the Order. I swore an unbreakable vow with Dumbledore that I would protect Harry, with my life if needed." He paused for a moment. "But it wasn't enough to save her... I thought she'd be safe. Dumbledore told me they'd all be safe…"

Understanding washed over Circe. The distance, the brooding, the venom. Suddenly it all fell into place. He idolised Lily, she made him, created him. And then there was just little old her...

"Don't." Snape said suddenly. "Don't think that."

"What?"

"You're comparing yourself to a dead woman. There has been her, and then there was you. No one else have I loved. And I spent twelve years mourning Lily, thinking that I'd rather have died with her, when the best way I could ever have honoured her memory was to _live_. And you did that for me. You dragged me kicking and screaming back into the land of the living. Your life is infectious and it bled into me through your small little kindnesses… Even when I was totally undeserving of it, you were kind to me. You surprised me with your gentleness but also your _fire._ God, sometimes I'd find myself sitting in here replaying every single moment I'd had with you in a day in my head just...lingering after every word and action... "

"You did not.." Circe smiled slightly, the tension lifting.

"You don't even want to know what you in a muddy Quidditch kit does to me…" He nuzzled into her neck and softly bit her flesh. She squealed in delight.

"Severus!"

"Yes, that moment's been replayed quite a few times…"

"Oh you dirty old man!" She teased. His hands found their way up to her breasts.

"Oh don't go all coy with me. You don't think I haven't clocked that that song you played in the Hacienda was about me?!" He spun her around to face him, planting a hungry kiss on her mouth. "Bit of an on-the-nose metaphor to compare me to an angel, isn't it?" He teased.

"Everyone's a critic…" she sighed as she positioned herself on top of him, feeling his hardening member again. Her hand disappeared beneath the water, taking his cock in her palm, stroking him gently. He moaned under her touch.

"I love you." He breathed.

"I love you." She returned, finally lowering herself onto him.

She straddled him, grinding into him achingly slowly to begin. Making sure she felt every inch of him move inside her. Each movement of her hips sent shockwaves of pleasure deep into the pit of his stomach and all he could concentrate on was the feel of her soft wet skin and the taste of her on his mouth. Her movements became faster and both of their small moans of bliss became louder. She felt so good. Fucking mind blowing. "Turn back around."

She did so, lowering herself back on to Severus' length. He reached around her, his hands this time diving below the water to find her sex. Gently, as he thrust up into her, he circled her clitoris with his fingers. This made her cry out, almost uncontrollably in bliss. Both of them now fervent and heavy: him thrusting up and her pushing her hips down onto him. His cock, his fingers, the warm water was all too much for her, and she orgasmed around him once again, her whole body shivering. He too could not hold back his climax as he totally gave up himself and came.

"How are you that good for someone who's never been with anyone…?" she asked. He laughed.

"I said I'd never loved anyone else… I didn't say I'd never fucked anyone else.." He smiled coyly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly feel like Frodo when he finally cast the ring into Mount Doom. It's done. It's here. We did it folks.


	39. "Is it my imagination, or have I finally found something worth looking for?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Heads up, more sexy times and graphic descriptions of sex. Well... we waited long enough for it. This is my treat to you.

Chapter 39 - "Is it my imagination, or have I finally found something worth looking for?"

Circe and Severus had reluctantly drawn apart from one another for the Christmas Eve meal in the Great Hall. The room, in which only a few hours ago Circe and Severus had danced, was almost back to normal. The stage was gone, the dance floor packed away, but a few telltale blue hangings on the wall and the continuing smatter of snow falling from the enchanted roof still hinted at the Yule Ball just gone. There was, as Circe guessed, an unusually high number of students still at Hogwarts for so close to Christmas, but the mood of the room was warm and jovial and wonderful; Conversation was amiable, spirits were happy and ripples of laughter and bright smiles peppered themselves amongst the children from all three magical institutions. As they both sat down at their respective House tables, full of students who had all stayed for the Holidays, Circe and Severus both were finding it rather hard to take their eyes off one another.

Circe beamed, and looked away as a fierce blush bloomed across her face. One of the Beauxbattons girls handed her some leftovers from the Ball yesterday and she tried to distract herself by spooning out a few profiteroles for herself. Severus too smiled wickedly to himself as he took a plate of cheeses and meats from a Durmstrang boy.

 _If only they knew what their teachers got up to in the dark…_ Circe thought as she laughed to herself. _I know I certainly never thought of my Professors even remotely in that way when I was their age._

She ate a small bite here and there, unable to settle her stomach from wriggling with delight each time a memory of the morning passed through her head. She would almost have been tempted to think that it had been a particularly vivid dream, sat as they both were in their familiar setting, apart from one another, had it not been for the deliciously sore ache between her legs.

Sometime after the meal, a few of the Hogwarts students came back with the MMAP's CD player. After a moment's fiddling with the radio, the whole of the Great Hall was suddenly echoing with the crackly noise from the tiny machine. Simon Mayo's countdown to the revelation of the Christmas Number one blared around the rafters and Lee Jordan managed to tune it just right as Mariah Carey's 'All I Want for Christmas is You' began playing. A chorus of voices chimed in with the song, loud and merry, Circe amongst them. Most of the overseas students didn't really understand the words, but they too made a go at forming the sounds and singing along to the melody, arms around their friends and sweethearts, eyes bright and smiles wide. Mariah's running preamble came to an end and the fast-paced, jaunty piano kicked in. A few couples spontaneously rose to their feet and began dancing in the way they had in the Great Hall the night before. Krum lifted Hermione up by the hand and began spinning her around and around. More Durmstrang boys followed with their chosen ladies, and then some of the normally reserved and poised Beauxbattons girls joined the dancing. The staff present at the meal watched as the delighted students continued in their loud and heartfelt singing, dancing together in a throng very much like that day Circe had first played them 'Sweet Caroline'. Circe's eyes wandered back to Severus, and she found he had not taken his eyes from her since the last time she'd dared to steal a look at him. Severus was watching her thick lips move as she mouthed along to the music, utterly transfixed by the movements of her perfect mouth. His chest ached with longing for her. A real, tangible shiver ripped through him as he remembered those lips had touched his earlier that day. He had tasted her sweet, hot breath and it had turned his night to day. His salvation had been found between her legs. His meaning imbued in her lifeblood.

" _Oh, I just want you for my own_

_More than you could ever know_

_Make my wish come true_

_Baby, all I want for Christmas…"_

The children's voices combined together in a rising cacophony of shouts and hollers. All of them building up to Mariah's triumphant final note.

" _is you!"_

They all cawed together like a gang of wolves. Circe laughed at the noise they made, and Severus delighted in the sparke of her eye as she smiled.

Ron stood up from his table quickly, in some sort of a huff. He tried to storm past the group of dancing teenagers, pulling a particularly sour look as he almost ran headlong into Hermione as Krum sent her into another spin. Circe had noticed the rather tense situation that had sprung up between Hermione and Ron last night. Granger had been left in tears at the end of the Ball and Crice had been the one patting her on the back and handing tissues to her.

"Men don't become decent human beings until they reach about forty, sweetheart." she'd said to the tearful young girl. That had elicited a small laugh from Hermione and Circe was happy enough that she'd cheered her up a small fraction.

Now, as Circe watched Ron frustratedly try to push himself through the dancing crowd Circe was left tutting aloud to the air.

"Well if you're so bloody jealous, Ron, you should have asked her before Viktor got there." She muttered. Circe looked back to Severus, rolling her eyes and she saw him titter slightly at Ron's ever increasingly frustrated tantrum. The Weasley boy reached his emotional capacity and with a shout, he shouldered past Harry and Seamus, trying to wrestle him into a headlock, until he went crashing past the CD player. In a flash, it was knocked from its precarious position on a tabletop and clattered to the floor with a harsh crack. Ron carried on with his flight from the Great Hall, his retreating footsteps the only noise in the now silent room. Circe stood up and rushed over to the CD player.

"Oh bollocks…" she uttered. It was completely smashed to bits. It had only been a cheap little thing, but the hours of happiness it had brought her and Severus, and then later with the MMAP made it priceless. Harry bent down beside it and picked up the now detached lid and a dial, looking up at Circe with a mournful look.

"I think it's broken, Professor."

"Ahh, what a shame." She replied, glancing around at the now still group of students, all of them looking at her.

"I'm sorry, Professor." Harry said apologetically.

"Oh it wasn't your fault, Harry." She said, trying not to sound upset.

"No, it was the red boy." Krum said, sternly pointing after Ron.

"It was an accident, Viktor. I'm sure he didn't mean it."

"I wonder what Christmas number one was." Hermione said wistfully.

"Oh it was probably going to be that god-awful East 17 garbage." She said jovially. Some of the Hogwarts students tittered and she turned and walked away from the smashed remains of the CD player.

She carried on walking, all the way out of the Great Hall trying very hard not to tear up. Severus was quick to follow her, catching her by the arm when they were both just out of sight and concealed by the huge wooden doors.

"Is it completely ruined?" He asked as his brow furrowed.

She nodded as her bottom lip quivered. "I know it's just a stupid record player but.. God I don't know why I'm so bloody emotional…"

"I understand. It's sentimental." He said gently.

"I could give the Weasley boy a detention. Or write home and demand that he replace it."

"No. He didn't mean to. And he was upset because of the Granger girl…" She smiled weakly at him and blinked away the moisture from her eyes. Severus reached out and caressed her cheek with his thumb. Seeing her upset pulled at his heartstrings. She reached up and took his hand in hers, comforted in the simple gesture of affection between them that had seemed impossible not so long ago.

"Oh bugger!" She exclaimed suddenly. "It's Christmas tomorrow!"

"Well noticed, Professor." He said sarcastically.

"I haven't got a Christmas present for you!"

She said, swatting his arm.

Severus looked at Circe, and then back towards the Great Hall, and then again back at her. He got an idea.

"What time is it?" He asked as Circe's face formed into an expression of confusion.

"Uhh, just gone six. Why?"

"I'll be back by tonight." He said as he turned from her, walking down the corridor with purpose. But before he strode too far away, he froze in place and turned back around to face Circe again. "Stay up for me." He added with an agonisingly slow, seductive drawl that sent Circe's stomach a-flutter.

Severus had run so fast down to the perimeter of Hogwarts's grounds, he was still a little breathless by the time his feet touched down in Diagon Alley. He was not so squeamish around apparating as Circe was and he found the dizzying leap from Hogwarts to London felt like almost nothing. His feet carried him on tenaciously through the wizarding shopping street, flinching each time he heard the shutters of the shops closing up for Christmas Day. He prayed that it wasn't too late in the day, and that the object he remembered seeing a rather considerable length of time ago was still there.

He tucked himself into the dark crevices and corners of Knockturn Alley, making a beeline for Borgin and Burkes. Thaddeus Borgin was just drawing the shutters down the windows, already wearing his thick winter coat, ready to head off home for the holiday. Severus approached the stooped, scruffy looking man and called out to him.

"Wait! Borgin…"

The old man turned around with a groan. He scowled as he recognised Severus, turning back around to resume closing up the shop.

"Come back on the twenty-seventh, Severus."

"I wish to purchase something." He replied, trying to catch his breath.

"It's almost seven o clock on Christmas Eve, Snape. Even you must surely have someone else to bother or somewhere else to be at this time."

"I know what I require. Do you still have the Cantuscope?"

"The…. Well, yes. Had it bloody years. But I'm _closed_ , Snape."

"Open up again for five minutes and I will continue to… leave your name out of any questions the Ministry may ask me about whomst you sell to."

"Why you sneaky, two-faced-"

"You'll find that I remember rather vividly exactly how varied your clientele were during the wizarding war."

"Varied? What are you talking about?" he asked, his unkempt brows puzzlingly knitted together in a deep frown.

"Oh yes... Varying different shades of moral greyness, that is."

Thaddeus Borgin scowled and spat into the gutter. He reluctantly pulled up the shutters and waved Severus inside.

The shop floor was dark and in the shadows loomed an unknowable number of hideous and dangerous magical artefacts. The blackness swirled with shrunken and shriveled faces, bones, feathers, harsh edges and oddities galore. It had been a few years since Severus had stepped foot in Borgin and Burkes, but he could not have forgotten, even for a moment, what a veritable Alladdin's cave of the weird and macabre it was. Which is why it marvelled him that Borgin would bother stocking a Cantuscope at all. But he had remembered seeing it shoved into one of the many dismal and dark corners of the shop when he had last come for a peruse, and thus it had stuck in his mind.

"I dunno why you want the bloody thing. The cathexis aerial is on the blink. I've been trying to fix it for years to no avail…" Borgon disappeared behind the shop counter and off he shuffled into the darkness of his storage room.

"It doesn't matter. Do all the other components work properly?" Severus shouted after him.

"They do."

"Then I'll give you thirteen galleons for it."

Burke returned, carrying a device that looked almost like a small, squat jukebox. It was almost entirely white, save for a few golden embossed features on its face and Borgin gave it a little brush as a plume of dust shot into the air.

"Fifteen. For forcing me to re-open on Christmas Eve."

Severus grumbled but eventually nodded his acceptance. He delved into his pockets and dropped a number of chunky, round coins into the shopkeeper's outstretched hand.

"Now would you like it gift wrapped, Sir?" Borgin asked derisively.

"Just give it here." Snape made a grasp for the Cantuscope and heaved it up into his arms. It was rather big, almost two foot tall and heavier than he was expecting. The aerial that poked out of the top of it rattled about precariously and he prayed that it wasn't going to snap off completely on the journey back to Hogwarts.

"You know, Snape…" Borgin sneered, eyeing Severus up with an ominous glare. "All the years I've run this place and all the people I've sold to in it. Out of all the customers I've seen here, I think you're the greyest of them all."

* * *

It was almost eleven o'clock when Circe was startled awake by a small knock on her bedroom door. She'd been snoozing away on her bed, trying desperately to stay awake for Severus's return. She checked the time on her watch, not quite Christmas Day, and she yawned as her jaw stretched open. She blinked away the last of her dream and swung her legs down to the floor as she called out.

"Sev, is that you?"

"Hurry up and open the door, before I drop this bloody thing." his low, silky voice replied. Circe laughed, and shuffled over to let him in. When she opened the door, seeing his face again after their brief time apart, it was like she was remembering a pleasant dream or gazing at a photograph of a beloved memory. He felt like coming home. He smiled at her, and she at him as both of them instantly felt the pull of desire towards one another once more.

"Miss me?" he asked as he moved inside.

"You were gone for a few hours, Severus…" she chuckled.

He moved over to the bed and placed the Cantuscope down on top of her blankets, sighing heavily as he stretched his aching arms.

"God, it's a heavy bloody thing." he grumbled.

"What is it?" she asked, edging closer to Severus. It had only been a mere few hours, but she had felt his absence at Hogwarts like a thorn in her side. To have been so wonderfully, sinfully close and then suddenly apart was a tonal shift that had made her again question whether any of it had happened. But as Severus looked at the Cantuscope and then to her at his side, the soft and loving look in his eyes warmed every inch of her, as if his presence was thawing her out from a long cold winter of loneliness.

"It's your Christmas present." he said simply.

"But… But where did you get it from? This late in the day?"

"Oh, I… uhh... popped down to Diagon Alley. I remembered seeing it in-"

"Yo went all the way to London and back?" Circe asked, her voice almost squeaking in disbelief. Severus nodded. Circe could only scoff. "Well what is it? It looks like a radio..."

"A Cantuscope. It's a magical device for playing music." he explained, motioning her closer to him so he could demonstrate the machine's capabilities. He first pointed to a small cone sticking out of the left side of the device. "You see this? If you so wished, you could request the Cantuscope play any piece of music you desired by speaking into the voice cone."

"Anything?" she asked, utterly amazed.

"Anything. Even music that was released yesterday. It'll play it. And then there's this…." he touched the aerial at the top. "The cathexis aerial can sense the emotional readout of the room it's in and play music to match the tone. Although Borgin did say it could sometimes be a bit temperamental…"

"And what's this?" Circe asked, bending down to inspect the display on the Cantuscope's front. It looked like one of those displays on a sweet machine, whereby you turn the dial until you get the picture of the candy you want. However, instead of pictures of food, each time Circe turned the dial, behind the glass display there popped up a series of drawings that reminded Circe of the Rider-Waite tarot deck. They seemed to be labelled such too: Justice, The Hierophant, The Moon etc.

"Ahh, I believe that's for manually selecting the mood of music you want. Let me show you…" Severus touched his fingers to hers, their eyes meeting for an electrifying moment as he delicately turned the display to 'The Fool'. "This one is for a sort of upbeat, adventurous, naive happiness sort of mood."

The machine clicked and whirred, and Circe almost sprang back with the sudden noise it made. She'd half expected that it needed to be plugged in, or something, but she checked herself, realising no magical item worth its salt would need mains electricity… The Cantuscope thought and buzzed and hummed, a thousand and one cogs clicking away inside it, until it fell completely silent and Circe waited on baited breath. R.E.M's 'Shiny Happy People' started playing, filling the room with music. Circe laughed, turning to Severus as her eyes lit up.

"Oh, Severus this is wonderful! I had no idea these things existed."

"Well they're incredibly difficult to make, so they are in fact quite rare… One last thing." He touched a deft finger to the bottom of the Cantuscope, where a tiny round button displaying a Greek Apollon symbol was and out popped a small tray.

"And what's that for? Cassettes?" Circe asked sardonically.

Severus laughed. "No, give me your brooch."

Circe did as she was told and unfastened it from her coat quickly. She handed it over to Severus and he placed it in the tray and closed it back up. The Cantuscope buzzed and whirred again and came to a sudden stop with a melodic ping, the tray popping open again. Severus picked up the brooch and handed it back to Circe.

"Now, if you touch that brooch and think of the music you want to play, wherever you are in the world, no matter how far away from the machine, the Cantuscope will play it."

"Fuck off…"

"Such a way with words..." Severus said flatly with a roll of his eyes. "Try it."

Circe cradled the brooch to her chest, closed her eyes and thought.

And then the Cantuscope stopped R.E.M, ticked and hummed, and suddenly changed to playing something much more slow and down tempo.

"Is this what you chose?" Severus asked. Circe stood staring at the machine with her jaw almost on the floor. Judy Garland's 'Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas' played softly in the air. She turned to Snape with a tear in her eye and she kissed him. Severus was a little shocked by it, but his shoulders relaxed into her and he kissed her back, his heart soaring. Her lips were soft and wonderful. It felt like an age since he had last tasted them.

"Thank you…" she breathed, cupping his face in her hands. "Although you've made me look like a complete knob."

Severus chuckled and frowned at her, lost in the heady scent of her and the warmth of her touch. "What do you mean?" he asked. She pulled away from him and walked around to the other side of her bed, placing two carrier bags on the duvet.

"I didn't think I could get to anywhere tonight that would still be open. So your "present" is a bit more… locally sourced. I walked down to Hogsmeade with Minerva before she buggered off to Caithness for the holidays and had a bit of a panic buy in the corner shop."

From out of the bag, Circe pulled out four large bottles of firewhiskey, two packs of twenty cigarettes, many, _many_ bars of chocolate and an immodest tub of Vaseline. She looked back at Severus almost completely covered in a red blush and Snape looked back to her with a wickedly raised brow. The Cantuscope whizzed and clicked as the antenna on its top twitched. After a moment of thinking, the machine stopped the Christmas tune and the display at its front spun around of its own accord until 'The Lovers' was displayed. It started playing something meaty and chugging, a real twelve bar blues rock song that practically stank of sexiness and misbehaviour.

Severus's mouth curled into a knowing, seductive smile.

"Oh I see…" he purred. "A seemingly unlimited supply of booze, cigarettes and sex is your present." He said slowly, walking around the bed with steady footfalls, aching to be closer to Circe once more.

"Yep. Non refundable." she replied bashfully.

He placed a long, deft finger under her chin and forcefully lifted her head upwards until she was staring into his dark, lust-filled eyes.

"Ah. Well it's a good thing I don't plan on letting you out of my sight again until New Year's Day." He whispered, leaning in close to her face.

" _Is it my imagination_

_Or have I finally found something worth living for?"_

The song's words were snarled. Feral and elongated until the vowels started to sound like a braying, utterly wild mustang. It was vicious, and it sent the blood in their veins pumping, wanting something frantic and fervent.

" _I was looking for some action_

_But all I found was cigarettes and alcohol."_

Circe closed her eyes as her whole body was set on edge. She cried out for him and he was quick to respond to her signals for his affections. He drove his tongue inside her, setting off another shattering moan that was music to his ears. She was his instrument to play, every touch and move creating a glorious sound of pleasure. He ran a hand up her neck and her skin was tingling beneath his fingertips in an instant. She shivered in delight, pulling him closer to her by the lapels of his jacket. She could feel his growing hardness pressed against her and she ran a hand down to his crotch, caressing him through the black fabric.

_"You could wait for a lifetime_   
_To spend your days in the sunshine_   
_You might as well do the white line_   
_'Cause when it comes on top_

_You gotta make it happen"_

He gathered her hair into his fist and yanked back her head, forcing her to part from him breathless and open-mouthed.

"Get on your knees." he whispered gruffly. An air of dominance about him.

She sank down compliantly, never once taking her eyes from him as she worked away at his trousers. He aided her with shaking hands and soon he sprang forth, his cock rigid and shivering in anticipation. Circe smiled; he was impressively big. It had all happened so quickly or under cover before, she hadn't really had a chance to properly see him. Her lips were around his head, smothering the pink and swollen flesh in an instant. Severus threw back his head and moaned as her tongue traveled the length of his member, feeling himself at the very back of her throat. Circe worked at him with her slick lips, tracing her tongue along his underside and stroking him in long, firm waves. He was moaning with each stroke, each time she withdrew and passed her fingers over his throbbing head, almost sending him over the edge. His legs shook, his breaths were short, stabbing gasps.

"Stop… stop…" he breathed. "I'll not be able to hold back for much longer if you continue like that."

She laughed and stood to face him once more. Severus worked his snaking hands and her clothes were soon a puddle on the floor. She too worked at his clothes until they were both naked and she trembled before him like a virgin. As his fingers encircled her nipples, sending goosebumps rippling all over her skin, he led her to the bed, laying her down on her back. Her legs opened and she lay bare before him like an empty canvas. He crouched before her, tracing the back of his hand along her inner thigh, where her skin was softest. Then the Potion Master's hands lifted her hips and his previously unknowable, venomous, untouchable tongue touched her innermost parts. He drank deeply from her, wanting to make her dance with his mouth. His nose passed over her fleshy nub as he kissed and kissed and kissed her wetness. Her orgasm came in a ripple of soft flames in her belly, turning her loins white-hot and exquisitely quivering.

He did not give her pause to recover. As she lay on the pillows panting, her face a wonderful formation of intense pleasure, Severus lifted her legs over his shoulders and poised himself just before her opening. Waiting in agonised longing, like two dancers paused en-pointe before their pas-de-deux. She nodded, and he entered her in one long, sweeping movement that never seemed to end. He filled her so completely and deliciously that she gripped onto his forearm with a fierceness that made him wonder if he was hurting her. He thrust once, cautiously, and he felt her encircling his entire length with a pulling, tightening sensation as if she were begging him to go deeper. He thrust again, and she cried out an expletive of utter pleasure, and he was lost. Lost completely to that building, riding rhythm as he went again and again. Her walls tightened around him again as she climaxed once more, her back arching as she gave herself fully over to the sensation. He too felt himself pour out inside her as he gripped her legs close to him, his fingers biting into the flesh of her thigh, whimpering with the utter delight of it.

He stayed inside her for a small moment longer, never wishing to be separated from her as their ragged breaths synchronised. But soon, he fell to the pillow beside her and drew her close to him. She lay her head on his chest again, listening to the slowing beat of his heart as he stroked her hair. They lay together in their afterglow, both content in their silence. Severus almost drifted off to sleep when Circe eventually rose up and leant on her arm, gazing into his placid face.

"It's just gone midnight, Sev." she whispered.

"Mmm." he muttered, opening one bleary eye to her. "Merry Christmas, Circe."

"Merry Christmas." she uttered back, leaning over him and laying a kiss on his lips. Her eyelashes fluttered against his and he reached up into her falling hair. He kissed her again, refusing to let her draw away and she giggled. "I thought you were going to sleep!" she mumbled, her mouth smothered by his relentless lips.

"A mere momentary recharge, my love." he purred in her ear. "We still have one hundred and sixty eight more hours until New Years."


	40. "I wanna talk tonight. Until the mornin' light. 'Bout how you saved my life."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Do yourself a favour and google Colin the Caterpillar. God tier birthday cake

Chapter 40 -"I wanna talk tonight. Until the mornin' light. 'Bout how you saved my life."

Circe was just walking back from a day in the Library. The Second challenge had taken place that day and Circe had a list as long as her arm of tasks to catch up on, none of them involved standing on a viewing platform and watching four teenagers almost drown. Plus, with all of the students winding down in the dorms, warming themselves up by the fire after the whole morning on the surface of the Black Lake, Circe almost had the rest of the castle to herself. She'd passed a few Hogwarts students on her walk from the Library to her rooms, and she was happy to hear that Cedric and Harry had jointly won the first place position. No doubt Minerva would give her the details of how this all happened that night. She was carrying a modest selection of books in her arms, on a variety of different topics that she meant to cover in future lessons. However, her main aim for her day in the Library had gone unfulfilled.

Her head was off somewhere else when she almost bumped into Moody in the corridor. She squealed and fumbled with her books, anxious not to drop any as she reeled back from the wildly flailing eye in Moody's head. Normally she kept an astute ear out for the Professor's heavy and uneven footsteps, being able to hear his cane pounding on the floor from quite a distance away, but this time he had surprised her. Her fumbling managed to rescue two of her three books from falling to the ground, but a third book slipped from her grasp and knocked against Moody's hand. It was a weighty tome, and when it fell to the floor it took with it whatever Moody had been holding in his fist.

"Oh bugger…" she muttered. "Sorry Alastor." she bent down to retrieve her book and picked up the small metallic object that had fallen with it: Moody's hip-flask.

"Ah, Professor Smith. Didn't feel like joining us out on the Black Lake today?" Moody said gruffly. Circe shifted uncomfortably as his eye twitched and danced all over her, from her head to her feet. For some unplaceable reason, she always felt rather uncomfortable around Moody.

"Perhaps I could have been tempted out into the cold if I knew you kept a dram on you, Alastor." she replied jovially, shaking his hip-flask. As she jiggled it, she noticed the liquid inside felt way too thick to have been whiskey. It felt almost like a smoothie, maybe? She frowned as she looked at it in her hands.

"Ahh I am warmed by other things, Professor Smith." he replied, extending a hand out to Circe, waiting for his flask.

"Such as?"

"Loyalty." he replied enigmatically, his thin mouth curling into a sly smile. Circe placed the flask back into his hands, a little lost for words from his strange answer.

"Okay… Perhaps you should try booze. I hear it works better." she muttered.

"Loyalty to one's masters." he called after her as she pushed past him. "Can be a very warming, rewarding thing indeed."

"Sorry, Alastor. Are we having the same conversation?" she asked, deeply confused.

Moody replied with a deep chuckle and went hobbling onwards. "I have a feeling you'll understand me just fine soon enough, Professor Smith."

Circe shook her head, trying to dispel the sense of unease that had settled over her.

 _Absolutely doolally. No wonder they call him Mad-Eye_ , she thought as she walked on.

The corridor before her was empty, deathly silent, almost too silent. The paintings that hung on the tapestried walls were snoozing quite happily, the rich plush carpet under her feet muffled her footfalls. It felt rather too dark, too muffled. She stopped dead as she listened to the thick quietness around her. It almost felt like she'd just walked into a silencing charm... A concealed door to her left sprung open with a bang and Circe squealed as all of her books fell from her arms. Severus chuckled and pulled her inside his overflow storage cupboard by her wrist. The door banged shut behind them and Circe felt his lips upon hers as her heart still beat wildly. They stood in the darkness of the cupboard, feverishly kissing one another, until Circe pulled away from his intoxicating embrace with a groan.

"You scared me fucking shitless, Severus!" she hissed at him.

"Apologies for seizing on an opportunity too good to miss." he purred, grabbing at her behind and pressing her close to him once more. "I couldn't resist a small jumpscare when you walked right into my trap." He kissed her again and for a moment she lost herself in him.

"Trap? Who are you meant to be trapping." she asked breathlessly, in between kisses.

"Oh, I thought I might be able to catch some nasty little thieves at their work… Where have you been all day? I must admit, I rather missed you at the challenge."

"In the Library… looking for something."

"Oh dear, dare I ask what?"

Circe reached into her pocket and cast a quick lumos. In a flash, their faces were illuminated in the dark and Severus smiled coyly at her from beneath the black curtains of his hair, almost utterly hidden in shadow

"Why can't I find any record of your birthday, Severus?" she asked suddenly. Snape grumbled and stepped back from her.

"Because I don't wish for anyone to know." he responded flatly. He walked back over to the ladder mounted on the storage room's wall and stepped up a few rungs, inspecting a jar of something just above his head.

"Severus, when is your birthday?" she asked, folding her arms.

"Is that really what your primary concern is right now? Not the outcome of the second challenge, how Potter and Diggory managed to tie in first place? Why Miss Delacour had to withdraw from the activities early? Who each of their "special someones" were…?" He turned around to face her with this last question, almost dangling it in front of her like a juicy piece of meat. Circe _was_ tempted to let him tell her the answer, curious as she was to see if her predictions were right. But she stopped herself. Severus was trying to distract her with gossip.

"Severus… When. Is. Your. Birthday?" she asked again firmly.

"I'm a capricorn." he muttered, going back to his storage items.

"Early to mid January. Severus, that's now!" she explained, rather alarmed.

"Why do you want to know?" he grumbled. He'd gone to great pains to remove all evidence of his birthday, or any information about him from the school records after Circe had let slip that she'd found information about his arrest as a Death Eater a few years ago. It could be a dangerous compromise of information if he had to resume his espionage work ever again, and he hated birthdays with a passion. He didn't need reminding of his relentless aging.

"I want to know because your Christmas present knocked it out of the park so much...and not to mention the guitar you got me last year… I feel rather embarrassed that I've never given you anything."

"Untrue. I rather enjoyed your Christmas present. I'm surprised that anything was coming out of my gentleman parts by New Year's Eve, other than a small red flag with the word 'bang' on it…"

Circe laughed as Severus gave her a knowing wink.

"Look you, stop trying to deflect." she said shortly, pushing past the wonderful memories of her and Severus abed throughout the Christmas period. It had been rather sad when their little slice of michaelmas heaven had been forced to come to an end, but much to the contrary of Severus's complaints, he showed no signs of slowing down… Neither did she, if truth be known.

"I thought we agreed, total upfrontness. Honesty all the way."

Severus grimaced to himself; he knew that decision would come back to bite him eventually. Yet somehow he'd thought it would rear its ugly head in a much less mundane way.

"The ninth." he said hurriedly. "It's on the ninth of January."

"Are you freaking kidding me? Tomorrow, Sev?!"

He shrugged his shoulders and went back to his bottles.

"I choose not to celebrate birthdays. Just… please forget it."

"I forgot mine earlier in the year because I was a scatter-brained mess. There's no way in hell I'm forgetting yours!"

"And what exactly do you have in mind? A Colin the Caterpillar cake? "For he's a jolly good fellow" in the Staff room? A round of butterbeers in the Three Broomsticks? I thought you knew me better than all of that…" he said a measure more maliciously than he'd intended. Circe fell silent and stared at him.

"No, I… I was thinking we could… go somewhere."

"Go somewhere?" He asked, a little intrigued.

"You remember when we went to Edinburgh after Quirrell destroyed all my clothes?"

Snape nodded.

"Well… like that. Doing the things we like. With one another. Talking. Wandering. Eating. Only this time, at the end of the day, we share the same hotel room." She finished with a small smile. She waited for Severus's reply. His face was unreadable.

"Let's do it." He eventually said.

"What? Really?"

"This was your idea!" He chuckled.

"I know… but I thought you'd need more convincing."

"Oh I don't think I'll ever need convincing to share a bed with you." He whispered into her ear. She felt the goosebumps rise on her arms as his warm breath caressed her skin. She gazed into his eyes and unable to hold back from the pull of him, she lay her mouth on his once more.

Their kiss grew deeper as Circe snaked her arms around his neck, pulling him close. He too encircled her in his arms, feeling her thudding heart against his as he drew her near. Her mouth opened for him and his tongue was quick to intertwine with hers. They were both soon throbbing for one another. Severus picked her up and Circe's legs were about his waist as he pressed her against the storage room's wall. She gasped as she felt his firming crotch pressing into her, her loins too singing out for him. A bottle on the shelf behind her went toppling and smashed against the floor, giving Circe and Severus reason to pause.

"Oh shit…" Circe muttered, trying to catch her breath.

"Ahh it doesn't matter. That blasted Potter boy has stolen enough from this storage room already, I'm surprised there's anything left in here. Not to worry, I've been brewing up a strong batch of veritaserum that I might just spike his pumpkin juice with if I'm unable to catch him red-handed..." He leaned in close to her again, ready to commence his hungry kisses, the warmth of her groin enticing him onward.

"Stolen? What do you mean?" she asked, pulling away from him suddenly.

"It's been going on for weeks now. A rather odd mixture of ingredients. Boomslang skin, lacewing flies, bicorn horn-" he muttered, burying his mouth into her soft neck flesh.

"Polyjuice potion?" Circe asked as his mouth nibbled at her skin.

"And then throw in the gillyweed for today's caper about the lake. Plus, all of the rather expensive wolfsbane and wild garlic. So, unless Potter's planning on becoming some shape shifting, werewolf, mermaid man-"

"Oh the wolfsbane and garlic is me." She said quickly. Snape looked up from her neck, wide eyed and frowning.

"You?" He asked incredulously. She nodded and Severus rolled his eyes. "For Remus." He said flatly.

She nodded again, biting her lip, waiting for Severus to tell her off.

"Stealing from me, Professor Smith? Tut, tut , tut…" he murmured, delving a hand between her legs to her warmth. After a moment's fumbling, Circe gasped as he entered her, pushing her harder against the shelf. She hung on tight to him as he began his thrusting, feeling every inch of him fill her, burying himself to the hilt in her sex.

"Wish I'd stolen from you earlier, Severus…" she gasped into his ear. "If I knew this is how you treat thieves."

* * *

Their train was five minutes away from London Marylebone. Circe had been left feeling a little green when they'd both apparated to the town of Banbury. Circe couldn't go much further than that in one go and Severus had waited rather patiently for her to stop retching in the bushes of the station car park. From there, the small flat Circe had booked out for hers and Severus's overnight stay was just over an hour away on the train.

Once through the ticket barriers and down into the Underground, Circe felt the buzz of the capital city seeping into her bones. It had been a while since she had been in London and it was a city that she'd always been a little bit in love with. She loved the whoosh of the warm air against her face as she stood on the Underground platform. She loved the smog-stained buildings, black and sooty and contrasted against the dazzling white Georgian facades. But most of all, she loved how she felt like she was at the center of the universe, the very epicenter of hundreds and thousands of years of life and living, culture, craft and the cutting-edge. There was truly nowhere else in Britain that felt like London. Nowhere as ridiculous or well-loved. Nowhere that teemed with secrets, but also was bare-faced and shocking.

Severus had never really been outside of Diagon and Knockturn alley in his rare trips to the capital. Which is why Circe had practically jumped on the opportunity to take him to "real" London for their overnight stay. Severus had noted that she rather enjoyed being the guide to his fresh-faced newcomer. Her the teacher and him the eager, listening student. Truth be told, he would have gone anywhere from the Outer Hebrides to the Isle of Wight on her recommendation, as long as he got to spend the day with her. From their conversation on the train, it sounded like Circe knew the area of London where they were staying rather well, and even Severus had to quietly admit that she'd made Camden sound rather interesting.

"All the London districts outside Zone One are like their own little village, Severus. They've all got their own unique feel to them." Circe whispered to Snape as they sat side by side on the tube.

"And if I were to ask for an _abridged_ summation of these "feels"?" he asked, poking fun at her rambling teacher tendencies. He watched their reflection in the blackness of the glass opposite them. The tube rattled and squealed metallically and Severus was beginning to feel a touch claustrophobic with the dim light and the loud screeching noises.

"Give me a borough then." she replied, giving him a poke back in the ribs.

"Oh, I don't know…. Kensington and Chelsea."

"Pretty. White. Museums."

"Islington."

"Theatres. Restaurants everywhere. Parks too…"

"Redbridge."

"Leafy. Lots of kids. Families and cricket pitches and that stuff..."

"Harrow."

"Oh, posh boys. Posh boys and shops."

Severus laughed. "And Camden?" he asked, breaking away from staring at the hollow-cheeked reflection of Circe in the window.

"Cool." She responded simply.

Severus had dismissed Circe's summation as a rather underwhelming review, but as they stepped off the tube and climbed the stairs of the Underground to the surface, he began to see how accurate her simplistic description was. It was, upon first glance, a typical dirty London borough: streets full of rubbish, honking cars, tall and imposing red buses, ordinary folk walking with heads bent down to the floor. But as they started walking to the riverside, Severus was suddenly hit with the colour and noise of the place. The street they passed en route was filled with a rainbow of shop fronts, all with comically huge models of what they sold on their exterior. Snape stared up at a huge pair of converse shoes, stuck on the front of one shop, with a raised brow.

"Yes, I can see why you like this place…" he muttered as they passed over a lock bridge, a few lazy canal boats trundling by underneath them.

"I haven't even shown you the best bit so far."

She took Severus by the hand and he looked back at her excited face, surprise written across his own. He couldn't recall a time or place… _ever_ … when someone had held his hand. The simplicity of the affection touched him to his core and his expression mellowed as he stared, flabberghasted at her.

"Is… this okay?" Circe asked, her hand gripping tighter around him.

"I…. well… Yes. I think so." he spluttered.

Circe paused on the bridge, turning to face him. "I know you and I are still finding our feet, Sev. So, if you're not comfortable with some things, then you can tell me. I know you were… reluctant-"

"Reluctant?" he asked, taking her other hand in his. "Not about you, if that's what you mean."

"But… we agreed to keep this a secret." Circe replied, feeling the hustle and bustle of the city pass by around her. It had been part of their discussions over Christmas, deciding how they would proceed from then on as an item. Circe had initially thought if something ever did happen between them, then she'd want to shout it from the rooftops, get straight on the phone to Myron or Tonks. But now, her opinions had changed, as if somehow deep down she knew of the dangers lurking just over the horizon for her and Severus both, and she had told no one. They had even agreed to give Diagon Alley a wide berth whilst they were in London, just in case they ran into anyone they might know who could possibly out their relationship to the wider wizarding community. Circe glanced down to the wet pavement, a little saddened that nobody, not even her closest friends, could share in her happiness.

"Why… why do you think that I wish to keep us a secret?" Severus asked with a deep frown.

"Because.. I don't know. You're embarrassed?" she asked, not really meaning it, but wanting some sort of reassurance from him.

"Of you?!" Severus cried out. "Circe… no!"

"So what are you scared of, Severus?" she asked desperately, grabbing on to his wrist. He flinched, drawing his hand back as her fingers brushed over his Dark Mark. It felt like an electric shock had passed through him.

"I… I never hesitated or pulled back from you because I didn't want you." he stepped closer to her, lifting her head up with his finger until she met his dark eyes. "I love you. You see me for what I am. And I see you. All of your talents and tenderness, all of your roses and thorns. And I am _not_ embarrassed by you, Circe. If we lived in a safe, secure world, where there were not evil eyes everywhere, then I would have your name tattooed across my chest…"

"Who's evil eyes?" Circe asked cautiously. This is the topic Severus had been skirting around since the first time they had laid on their pillows side by side. "Who are we hiding from, Severus?"

"Perhaps no one. Perhaps the worst of all." he responded darkly.

Circe sighed and looked out towards the canal. Over the other side of the river, music floated over the breeze. Something swinging and rhythmic, as if it had seeped out from a London in the 1960's. Bright, bohemian and bouncy. From where it came, she could not tell, but the sound of it soothed her beating heart. It reminded her of where she was, who she was, the magic of London enchanting her again and giving her courage. If she were really standing on the edge of a precipice, she wanted to know just how deep it was. "Total upfrontness? Honesty all the way?" she asked him again.

He nodded.

"Then we need something to eat first…" she muttered, before turning on her heels and striding off deeper into Camden. Severus squinted after her, confused by her reaction, but after a second he chuckled to himself and followed. They walked on, side by side. As Severus caught up with her he slid his hand into hers voluntarily. She gripped it firmly, his return of affection giving her courage for the upcoming conversation.

She led him on into Camden Market, through the mismatched shops and stalls of vintage goodies and on to the food market by the lock. Severus again was marvelled by the sprawl of colour and noise in the place. He had expected a few stalls, lined with a few knock-off Gucci bags and cheap fur coats. This place was a rabbit warren of shops: built into the walls, set into a network of ancient cellars, old warehouses and new galleries, all set on top of perilously wobbly cobbled streets. Severus would have been lost in the jungle of strange and beautiful oddities in minutes: a ransacked hodgepodge of furniture, vintage clothes of every era from thick-shouldered leather jackets to great pluming Georgian bustles, artisan jewellery of shining brass and silver, handmade soaps topped with petals so big Severus thought they were trays of cake...had it not been for Circe's guiding footsteps.

"It's almost like a … like a muggle Diagon Alley." he muttered as they passed a shop that exclusively only sold oriental-style dressing gowns in a riot of bright colours and a menagerie of creatures.

"I know. It's brilliant isn't it. They say you'll never find the same thing twice in Camden Market."

Circe led Severus through an underground pass, lined with a selection of tattoo and piercing parlours, hearing the buzz of the artist's needles working away on their clients.

 _Hows about getting that tattoo across your chest anyway, Sev?_ Circe thought with a wicked smile.

When they emerged back into the light, Severus was suddenly hit with the smell of a wonderful kaleidoscopic palette of food from every variety of cuisine imaginable. Just from where he was stood he could see souvlaki, Hungarian paprika stew, golden calamari, huge trays of paella, teriyaki chicken, Ghanaian roasted lamb… and the stalls went on beyond his eyeline. His mouth filled with drool in an instant.

"What do you fancy first?" She asked, gesturing around broadly to the food stalls. "You haven't eaten today, Sev."

Severus tutted. "Are you my lover or my nurse?" He asked sardonically, but nevertheless touched by her care for him.

"I'm getting halloumi chips." She replied, ignoring his witty dig at her.

"Halloumi chips?"

"Yep. There's a guy just down by the water who cuts the cheese into strips, deep fries them, drizzles it with natural yoghurt and pomegranate syrup, and tops them with chili flakes and coriander. It's the shit, Sev."

"And that's just to start?" He asked, his mouth watering at her description. He realised, all too suddenly, just how hungry he actually was. Circe seemed to know what he wanted these days before even he did.

"Look around you, Severus. You can't come here and only have _one_ thing on the menu!" she laughed. "Plus, I've seen what you look like naked now. I thought I'd get a bloody paper cut on your ribs, you skinny bastard." she added with a wink.

They sat together on one of the benches, tucking into their food as the gentle sunlight played off the canal's water. He watched her looking out over the river, pointing places out to him of where she had been in her younger days, regaling him with stories from her youth when she had visited Camden before. Gigs and parties and nights out. Times of joy and happiness. And his heart grew heavy as he thought of what he had to tell her... Circe was listening out for the music she had heard earlier again, still not quite able to place where it was coming from but it triggered a memory of a night in her younger days of perfect eyeliner and sharp mod haircuts outside a moss green tiled pub… when Severus suddenly spoke.

"Karkaroff seems to think The Dark Lord is on the rise." he said morosely, slicing through her meandering memory.

Circe sighed, scooping another mouthful of chicken and coconut dahl onto her fork. "And why does he think that?"

"He believes his Dark Mark is growing… stronger. Darker. It's the Death Eater's link to him, how he calls us, how he summons us…"

"And what about yours?" Circe asked, pointing at his wrist with her cutlery once she'd taken another bite of food.

"I don't know." he paused, running a thumb over the dark fabric of his sleeve. "Sometimes I think so. Other times I think I'm just a paranoid old man. But then there was the incident at the Quidditch World Cup in the summer-"

"The Dark Mark in the sky." she whispered solemnly.

"And the others that were reportedly there. The other Death Eaters…"

Circe remembered the masked figure she had fought off at the end of her wand. The vicious and merciless magic they had tried to enact on her and the Bulgarian boys she had protected. _They would have crucioed me if I'd let them…_ she thought.

"So…" she asked cautiously, labouring over her words as she chewed on her food. Severus had stopped eating altogether, waiting for her to ask the very question that had kept him from her for so long. "If the Dark Lord is out there somewhere… Hidden, growing, becoming stronger. Then what would that mean for you?"

He cleared his throat and toyed with his bowl of food in front of him. "It may all just be conjecture and coincidence, Circe."

"Severus…" she said firmly, making him halt in his fidgeting. He looked up into her face and saw her barely concealed worry. "Total upfrontness. Honesty all the way."

Severus sighed heavily, reaching out for her hand. He grasped it firmly when she offered it and Circe frowned, a little frightened by the change in his demeanour. "Then I would be catapulted back onto the front lines of the next wizarding war. I would have to maintain my cover as a double agent and curry information back to Dumbledore and the Order. I would be in danger. Constantly. Every waking moment.… and so would you."

Circe's eyes widened and she sat for a moment in silence. "Wow…" she uttered, staring back over the canal.

"That is what you risk when you tether yourself to me, Circe. But I would protect you with every part of me before I let them hurt you-"

"You know I can protect myself, Severus. I put you on your backside once, remember? And I did in the summer when one of your old colleagues tried to curse me…"

"Yes, but the Dark Lord has powers that I have- that I have become lax in recently. And you yourself do not possess."

"Which are?" she asked with a confused frown.

"Legilimency. He will pluck every bone of knowledge from your mind, Circe, if you cannot protect yourself."

"Then teach me occlumency." She muttered, leaning in close to him. "You and me can face it together if it comes to that. Both of us working secretly for the Order."

"It takes years… decades to master. And you wear your heart on your sleeve, Circe. You can rarely keep anything from me."

"Right back at you, "Mr Longing-Stare 1994"!" She shot back, a little offended.

"I told you, with you I have been lax. But a look or a thought or a smile or a caress could doom us both! There could be no mistakes. No shadows cast. You draw everything out of me, Circe. I couldn't hide from you if I tried, and believe me I tried... If they ever suspected we were… together. If we were found out by them, he'd kill us both without hesitation."

"Then teach me!" She hissed. "Give me the tools to fight side by side with you. I couldn't wait at the window like a war widow whilst you went away to fight, Severus! Not again… I couldn't do that again."

"There were witches and wizards like you, equipped with all the knowledge and tools known to magic, and they still died by his hand, Circe."

"Like Lily?" Circe said flippantly, a bubble of frustration rising up in her throat.

"Yes, like Lily!" He said just loud enough a few muggles turned to look at him. "Don't you understand?! I couldn't stand to lose you like I lost Lily. Lily was the brightest, bravest, fiercest witch of her age and even she died at Voldemort's hand."

"I am _not_ Lily!" She shouted. She rose up from the table and stormed off into the marketplace, hot tears of frustration springing up behind her glasses. Severus called after her but she was lost to the crowd in an instant.

He found her an hour or so later in a huge underground record store at the market's border. The air was musky with the smell of old paper and plastic, the walls coated with years and years worth of band posters, all stuck on top of one another until it was centimeters thick in some places. From the ceiling were hung an innumerable amount of coloured vinyls, spinning around on their string, a kaleidoscope of colour. They hung in the air above Circe's head like a gently swinging mobile, covering every square inch of ceiling space, reminding her of the candles often placed in the roof of the Great Hall. She was thumbing through the CD's and vinyls, her back turned resolutely to him as he approached. Before he even said anything, she could feel him. She could always sense when Severus was nearby. A great, looming, dark presence like encroaching thunderclouds.

"I thought I'd find you in here." he said slowly, laying a hand on top of hers. "Took me a fair bit of wandering around to spot this place, mind…"

Circe slid her hand from his and went on perusing the handwritten labels above the different segments: ABBA, Adam and the Ants, Allman Brothers, AC/DC, Aerosmith… She pretended to become very interested in the 'B' section, avoiding Severus's eyes with all her willpower.

"I'm sorry, Circe. I never meant to…" his words left him for a moment as he sensed her tense up beside him. He sighed heavily, feeling her anger seeping through her skin. Of course he hadn't meant to compare her directly to Lily, or to make her feel like she paled in comparison to her, ability wise. He knew enough of women to know that one must never do that with past loves. And Circe possessed skills that Lily had never had, and vice versa.

 _Can she really blame me for wanting to keep her safe, knowing that Lily's killing made me die a thousand deaths?_ Severus thought as he watched her busily flicking through records. _And I never even knew Lily in the way I know Circe now. Lily never belonged to me in the way Circe does. I could not even bear to think of the pain of losing Circe, losing who I belong back to._

Severus thought for a moment and groaned. He'd made the mistake before of trying to impose control over the fate of a woman he loved. Perhaps the truest show of his love for Circe was to relinquish control altogether. "I've tried to make decisions for you in the past. I tried to push you away from me in a vain attempt to keep you safe from harm. But if I know you, and I think I do, I know that trouble seems to find you no matter what."

Circe looked to him in indignation and instantly regretted breaking her "no-looking" rule when she saw the large grin on Severus's face, knowing he had tempted her back to him. "I resent that, Severus." she replied haughtily. "And I can get myself out of troub-"

"Will you just… let me finish?" he interrupted. She bristled, but eventually nodded. "I know you're capable. I know you're a fighter. And if we are to be placed in the midst of a war soon, there's truly nobody else I'd rather have at my side than you. I suppose I've come to trust you with my heart. I could trust you with my life too."

"So what does that mean?"

"It means… if...and only if Karkaroff is proved right, Voldemort returns and my worst fears are made reality…" he paused, sucking in his breath. "I will teach you occlumency."

Circe suppressed a smile. It was a small victory, if only a hypothetical one. In this muggle music shop, on a sunny and bright day in Camden, the return of the Dark Lord seemed like a flight of fancy. Something that could never happen to them. Something to shatter the small haven that they had carved out for themselves between them. It still meant secrets, it still meant hiding, but at least it meant Circe could fight for what and who she loved.

"I thought you were going to try and _forbid_ me, Severus." Circe replied with a coy smile.

"Oh, I thought about it. But I also know you well enough now to know you will be forbade nothing. Especially when there's a fight to be had." He slid a hand around her waist and pulled her close. He planted a kiss on her lips and lingered there for a sweet moment. "That's why I love you."

"I love you too. I don't want to linger over the maybes and the morbid any more than you do, Severus. Let's forget the oncoming storm, just for a moment longer..." she muttered. She knew it was feeble to bury her head in the sand, pretend like there was no possible danger for the two of them in the near future, but she wanted to cling on to a few more blissful moments of happiness before the world threatened to fall apart around them. "I want to talk of us, you and me… Like we did in those days after Christmas. And there be just you and I, making one another happy."

"I cannot promise that it'll always be like that. Some of your tears in the future may be caused by me again." He said morosely.

"I know. But let's save tomorrow for tomorrow. Today, I want us to be just two people who love each other. No past, no war, no darkness. Letting our pillow-talk heal us and bring us closer…"

Severus liked that idea, leaning in close to bury himself in her hair. "Whispering sweet nothings until the small hours? Lying naked together under your sheets? Telling you again and again of how you saved my miserable life?" he murmured into her ear, setting every hair on her neck on edge with his hot breath.

 _And I'll do it again. Even if it means following you into the Lion's den._ She thought to herself as she led Snape out of the shop and off to find somewhere more private. It was high time they saw their accomodation for the night.

* * *

That night, Severus made a point of cooking for her. The flat Circe had found for their night away was a wonderful little refurbished one-bedroomed space, airy, bright and backing on to the canal. At the back of the flat were a set of french doors that opened up wide, letting in all the sounds and music of Camden into the living room. Circe hadn't been aware of this when she'd booked the place, but it was furnished with a small red piano, placed just by the open double doors. She'd be toying away with the keys as Severus toiled away in the kitchen. Every so often she'd look up from the black and white blocks to catch a glimpse of Snape walking past the serving window before disappearing back into the smoke and smells of the meal he was cooking up. Circe was perfectly happy to play away, letting the noise of the piano float through the open window and down onto the walkway by the canal. Piano wasn't her first instrument, but after a moment of tinkering and re-familiarising herself with where the notes were and the shape of certain chords, she was soon hopping from tune to tune.

The first time someone called up to her from the canal, it had come as a bit of a shock. Circe had almost run to the french doors and banged them shut with embarrassment, but when her initial panic faded, she realised they were calling up requests. Most of them were classical pieces that she didn't know and she'd respond with a quick "Sorry, I don't know it!" out the window. She had to stick to fairly easy stuff. So she cycled through the likes of Let it Be, Desperado, Imagine, Rocket Man… humming along to the tune as she went. After a while, as one song bled effortlessly into another, she heard the soft, low, sounds of Severus's voice from the kitchen. She dared not stop, just in case he consciously realised he was singing along and it broke the spell. She listened to his rich, dulcet tones, absent-mindedly joining with her playing and marveled at how wonderful his singing voice was.

 _I've never heard him sing before…_ she thought wistfully as he continued, her utterly captivated. She wondered if he often sang when he was alone, if he'd sung by himself in the potions storage room when she wasn't there. A hidden gem in the darkness.

 _He really does have a beautiful voice._ She smiled to herself, wondering in what scenario could she ever convince Severus to perform. _Perhaps when hell freezes over…_

She tried to choose something that he'd know, just so she could listen to him sing for longer. She chose Lady Stardust, once again cycling back to her favorite album, but transposing it down a few keys to fit Severus's low voice. As soon as those distinctive opening chords were played out on the red piano, Severus hummed along with some throwaway "dum de dooo doo..."'s, and Circe grinned, ecstatically happy that he'd been lulled into more singing.

" _People staaaaared at the makeup on his face._

_Hummm dee dummm long black hair._

_His animal grace…."_

She wondered when he'd heard this.. Who he'd listened to it with...An image of a young boy on the terraced streets of Cokeworth, sometime in the seventies, flashed into her mind. Leaning against a brick wall, huge great blue flares, long black hair, a skinny little thing. Had he listened to it with Lily? The thought stung in her mind as it passed through, but she let it sail on by, letting it go, determined not to let the familiar feeling of jealousy taint her evening. Circe wished she'd have known Severus back then, she wished that she'd always known him and she never wanted to be a stranger to him ever again.

He stopped suddenly, somewhere in the second chorus, distracted away by something. Circe felt like she'd just been ripped from her mother's umbilical cord and she too stopped playing. She listened out astutely for the noises from the kitchen, hearing the roar of the oven open and Severus muttering to himself as he finished off their dinner.

 _Ahh well, it was nice while it lasted._ Circe thought to herself as Severus emerged in the doorway, holding a pot of something delicious smelling.

"Ready?" he asked, holding it aloft, none the wiser that Circe had been completely bewitched by his singing moments ago. She nodded and sat down at the modest little table. As Severus portioned out his creation, Circe poured out two glasses of crisp white wine. She eyed it up as he placed it down in front of her and "ooed" in delight. After their wander around Camden market, Severus had taken a quick gander around the food stalls, filled to the brim with meats, vegetables and deli goods, coming back a few moments later with a bag full of prawns, squid, mussels, winkles and cockles. By another stroke of good luck, on the corner of the street they were staying on was a quaint little wine shop. Severus had disappeared inside it before Circe could turn her head around, and she'd found him a few moments later passing his slim fingers over the bottles as if he were in his potions storage cupboard.

"Seafood risotto. How classy, Sev."

"Well, if teaching doesn't work out for either of us we could always open a restaurant. I cook, you entertain." he responded, sitting opposite her and taking a long sip of his wine. Circe smiled and took a bite of her meal. It was delicious, buttery, rich, the undertones of the dry white wine Severus had chosen just underneath the other strong flavours.

"Mmmm, wonderful. You know, I thought you'd be a terrible cook, being a long-standing bachelor."

"You thought I lived off microwave meals and cereal? When practically all I do for a living is cook?"

"Is potions making really that much like fine dining?" she asked, intrigued.

"Of course, it's an art. A precise science, like potions. It's all about intensity, flavour, heat, patience, steeping, steaming, charring…I am almost never required to cook at Hogwarts, so when the opportunity presents itself, I pounce on it. I find cooking rather therapeutic."

"And they do say the way to a woman's heart is through the stomach." she purred, running a foot slowly up his leg. She rather liked it when Severus spoke about potions making, or cooking it seemed, in that intensely passionate way he did.

"Well, I do hope my skills don't leave me now I've lost my long-standing batchelor's status." he muttered, leaning in close to her and running a hand up her exploring leg, all the way to her thigh. He abandoned his food, dropping to his knees before her and lifting her skirt to plant a series of faint kisses along her skin. She leant her head back as a tingle of pleasure rippled through her blood.

"Severus, your food… It'll get cold." she whispered as his hands roamed her body, his mouth journeying perilously close to her sweet spot.

"Then let's be quick about it." he sighed, rising up to meet her full, open lips, pressing himself to her hungrily. She leant into his kiss, equally ravenous for him, and in a flash he lifted her off of her chair and had her on her back on the floor. She wrapped her legs around him as his hands tore away at her clothes and after a moment's fumbling, her chest was laid open and bare before him. She too worked away at his garments, lifting his jumper over his head so she could feel the warmth of his bare chest against her. His skin was so light, so pale, it still surprised her that it didn't feel as chilly as marble to the touch. Her hands found his stiff member and he groaned in ecstasy as she released him from his trousers and he buried himself in her once again. His thrusts were powerful and strong, causing her to ache wonderfully he filled her up to the very edges of herself. He clung onto her thigh, pulling her closer to him with each movement, afraid that she might slip away from him if he didn't hold on to her tight. She pulled at his hair as his cock mercilessly stimulated her g-spot and she was soon shivering beneath him as her climax turned her very bones to song. He too soon followed, the feeling of her tightening pleasure around his member sending him over the edge.

They lay together, panting and sweaty on the floor, the breeze from the still open windows blowing against their hot skin. For a while they listened to the sounds of the London suburb going on just outside the window: the distant honking cars, the gentle flow of the canal, the turning over of a boat's engine, and still, out there somewhere, the far-off sound of music.

"The way to a woman's heart, indeed…" Severus said coyly, reaching out a hand to stroke her hair from her face.

"I'd still adore you even if you served me beans on toast, Severus." she laughed, sitting up from the floor and wandering over to the bathroom to clean herself up. When she came back, Severus too was up off the floor and back in his seat at the table as if nothing had happened. Circe too took her seat again and began eating her risotto with a broad grin on her flushed face. The music from beyond the curtains grew louder, and they both turned to the open window curiously.

"What do you say we eat this as quick as we can, and find a bar where the cocktails are way too expensive and the music's too loud?" Severus asked suddenly. Circe looked back to him wide eyed, and smiling. "You did say after all, in your brief summation of this borough, that this place is known for its music venues too."

"I thought our plan was to talk all night. And you were going to tell me again of how I "saved you from a miserable life"." Circe smirked, taking his hand gently from across the table.

"I could spend a thousand and one night with you and never get that sentiment across quite as well as I'd like." He uttered, staring into her eyes as his fingers danced with hers. "But it would be a shame to leave Camden to itself when it is on our very doorstep…"

Circe looked back to the window, and then back to Severus. A beautiful smile bloomed across her cheeks and she finally said in a low voice, "Oh Sev, I thought you'd never ask.", picking up her wine and downing it in one. He followed suit and drank his wine greedily, chuckling as he watched her fork in a few mouthfuls of his risotto with speed.

"Carpe Diem, my love." She chuckled, clinking her glass to his. _Who knows how many "Diems" we may have._ "Whatever next? Will you be dancing and singing with me!?" she asked.

"I rarely dance, as you know. And I _never_ sing." he shot back, cooly.

"Or so you think…" Circe muttered under her breath.

"What?"

"Nothing, my love." she responded sweetly, filling his wine glass again. "Now hurry up. I remembered the name of that place I was thinking about, saw it advertised in that record shop earlier. There's a bar down by the canal called The Laurel Tree that has a sort of retro Mod feel. They play modern stuff too, stuff that fits the mood. I can hear them playing a bit of Blur, I think…" she pointed out over the water and rushed to close the french doors.

"I thought you didn't like Blur. I thought you were on the Oasis side of that war."

"Ahh Blur may have won the battle for the streets of Camden, but Oasis will win the war."

"Of course." Severus responded with an eye roll. "And when in the enemy's territory, do as the enemy does? "When in Rome"... as the saying goes."

"Absolutely." she said simply. _You'll make a spy of me yet, Severus._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will also say, the inspiration for Severus's voice came from this:   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KuKRrIVYhHE  
> It's later Bowie but when I listen to it, it's Severus. I'm sorry, it's Severus.


	41. "Hey, you've got to hide your love away."

Circe was dreaming once again of the many bodies of screaming and frightened people piled on top of her. As soon as she realised she was stuck in this recurring nightmare she screamed, feeling all the air leave her lungs and her throat burn. The people around her groaned and mumbled in intense pain, and she felt it all.

_Oh God, please no… Not again._

Ever since her memory had come back, she'd been blissfully absent of the bad dreams. Ever since she'd thrashed things out with Snape, her head seemed righted. As if whoever tormented her had left her alone now she was finally one with Severus. But this time, it was like it had come back with avengence. Everything seemed startlingly vivid: she could feel the heat and sweat of the bodies, smell the damp and crumbling plaster of the ballroom, and she could hear the laboured, raspy breaths of the figure beneath the hood. It was like life, only it felt _more_ real. She started to push back, fighting against the filthy bodies of those around her with tooth and nail. She pushed and shoved at them, roaring with the sheer effort it took to try and get them off her.

"Leave me alone! I didn't do this to you.." she wept, plunging her palms into their faces over and over again. They felt so real, every twist in their features and sickness of sweat, she could feel it all. For the first time, she was not frightened just from the claustrophobic presence of the people around her, but by how lucid and present they felt. She fought against their crushing weight and almost stopped dead when she saw the young, gaunt face of a Hogwarts girl. The girl she had seen the first time she had dreamt of this awful place. Up close, she could see her clearly now: her round glasses, her grey eyes, her shining black pigtails.

"Myrtle?" She breathed.

The girl opened her mouth and screamed, and her noise rippled through the other bodies nearly until Circe was in the midst of a screaming, writhing mass.

A hand extended out to her and Circe looked to it with alarm.

"Take my hand, Circe." It was Lily once more. Circe looked up into her face, lined with worry and framed with auburn hair.

"No! Leave me alone! All of you leave me alone!" Circe roared back at Lily, trying so hard to fight the others off herself. Something of her waking jealousy stopped her from accepting Lily's hand.

_I can save myself! Despite what Severus says, I can save myself…_

"Circe, he's strong... He's so strong. Please don't do this tonight…" Lily pleaded with her.

"I'm just as strong as you!" she sobbed. "Severus needs to see that…"

"He does… He does… just please take my hand and-"

"Just get off me! All of you get off me!" Circe screamed, shoving at the bodies around her haphazardly. They screamed back at her, a cacophony of pure terror and fright.

"Do you want to be one of them, Circe? Forever stuck in the state of horror and fear you were in before _he_ killed you?"

"Who? Who is he?" Circe asked, looking around desperately for the hooded figure. She could not see him, but she sensed his presence drawing near. "Who are all these people?"

" _They are those whom I relieved of life…"_ a sickly voice hissed, echoing off the cavernous roof above and rattling around Circe's skull.

The bodies around Circe shrunk away from her in an instant, scurrying back to the shadows like disturbed rats. Despite herself, she looked around for Lily, forgetting her resentment for the woman once she was left alone, but she too had gone, so had James, or anyone else who could have stood by her. Circe was left gasping and panting for air on the ballroom's floor, her knees pressed painfully into the hard stone floor. The marble felt smooth under her hands…corporeal and startlingly solid. Circe was frightened, deeply afraid as she looked up and saw standing in the mirror's reflection, once more, the hooded figure.

" _Every one of the souls here… I sent to the afterlife."_ The voice continued, sending a shiver emanating throughout Circe's body, until she shook uncontrollably with terror. The figure reached up with two withered, bony hands and slowly drew back the hood. The face that emerged from the darkness was nightmarish. A fleshless, hollow, skeletal demon with eyes of brightest yellow and a forked tongue that danced about his cracked lips.

"Voldemort…" Circe whimpered.

" _Yes, my dear… I've called to you for a long time now. Summoned you to me. But another disciple has heard my cries, and now I am on the brink of my glorious return. Soon I shall rise anew, with my loyal by my side."_

Circe wept, struck dumb by The Dark Lord's serpentine stare. "You know me… you know me…" she muttered through choking sobs.

" _I do. I know your heart. I know your desires. I know your love."_ The visage of the Dark Lord waved a skeletal hand, and beside him in the mirror, the image of Severus bled into her sight. He stood there rigid, catatonic and unmoving, like a puppet whose strings have been severed, until Voldemort waved a hand again and he began to twitch about under his guidance. " _I know your heart aches for him, Circe. He. My most loyal of servants. Do you not wish to follow him in servitude to me?"_

His dead-eyed Severus puppet reached out a limp hand to her.

" _Come to me, Circe. Come to him."_ The Dark Lord said in a beautifully gentle voice. " _You could serve me at his side. With him. With me. You have seen what happened to those who fought against me…"_

Circe heard the muttered whimperings of the people who hung in the shadows. Feeling their fright rising up in her own chest again. She wished desperately that she could wake up. Tear herself from this nightmare and run as far as she could from the ice-cold panic coursing through her veins. Anything that would separate her from the crushing sense of dread and loss that weighed down on her from the people in this ballroom's shadows.

"Let me wake up… please. Let me wake up…."

" _You will know of my return soon. I shall rise and call my followers to me and my conclave shall begin."_

Circe gasped as Voldemort dropped his hand and the Severus puppet fell to the floor in a shapeless heap.

" _I pray that I shall see you both when I am reborn… Otherwise the consequences will be great. For you both."_

Voldemort snapped his fingers and his victims rushed forth from the shadows. Circe screamed as they delved upon her hungrily, crushing her completely with their weight, taking all light and air and space from her. Until there was nothing. Blackness. Weight. Terror.

And then she woke up. Screeching with considerable volume as she sat bolt upright in Severus's bed, the covers around her drenched with sweat.

"Circe…?! Circe…!" Severus called out, still half-asleep. He reached out to her, lying at her side and placed a hand on her shoulders. She screamed anew, flinching at his touch. "It's alright, it's me!" He said firmly, shaking her from the last dregs of the nightmare. But as she slowly realised she was awake and no longer in the crumbling ballroom, her screams dissolved into retching sobs as her whole body shook with fear. Severus pulled her close, cradling her in his arms as he rocked her gently.

"It was _him…_ It was _him_ all along, Severus..." she spluttered, barely able to get her sentences out in between her cries. Severus shushed her and stroked her hair, feeling his bare chest grow moist with her tears. He whispered small comforts to her even though his own heart drummed against his breastbone.

"Tell me… before you forget." he said, trying to soothe her, but barely able to keep the alarm from his own voice.

"I saw them all, Severus. All the people who he's killed over the years. All their fear and their pain and their terror, he let me feel it all until it weighed down upon me so much… I thought it would crush me. Myrtle… Moaning Myrtle . I saw her."

"Myrtle?

"He must have been the one who killed her, Severus. With the Basilisk … in the bathroom… all those years ago. And all of those others… so, so many of them…" she muttered a little manically, her mind going at twice the speed of her mouth. Barely able to keep up with her thoughts as they jumped from place to place.

"Who, Circe?! Who killed her?" Severus asked exasperatedly.

"Voldemort…" she whispered. All of the hairs on Severus's arms stood on end. "And he knows me, Severus. How does he know me!?"

A knock on the door made Severus and Circe both flinch. She gasped and covered her mouth, looking to Severus wide eyed. He pointed towards his bathroom and she silently slid from his bed and tiptoed as quietly as she could to the adjacent room. Severus too rose from the bed and threw a discarded black cape around himself as he moved to answer the knock. He opened the door a crack and peered into the gloom.

"Is everything alright, Professor?" Filch asked, peering through the orange lamplight that he held before his lined face. "I thought I heard screamin'..."

"I am… working on a mandrake draft. You heard the cries of the plant, Argus." he lied quickly.

"Oh…" Filch said, a little disappointed at the lack of drama. He was used to the unusual hours Snape kept, knowing of Severus's habit of working through the night well enough. "I thought it may have been a… student out of bed or… someone down in the dungeons who shouldn't be. A Beauxbattons lady sneaking about with a boy perhaps..."

"Well you were mistaken, Filch." Snape replied shortly.

Filch grumbled and cleared his throat. "Well… alright, Professor."

"Is that all?" Severus said coldly, trying to hurry him away.

"Well… yes, but-"

"Then I shall bid you goodnight, Filch,"

"Goodni-"

Severus slammed his door shut, silencing Filch mid sentence.

Snape groaned and Circe poked her head around the door to the bathroom. Once Severus had heard the last of Filch's receding footsteps, he nodded to her. They both moved back to the bed silently and slid under the covers once more. Severus placed a comforting arm under Circe's head and drew her close.

"I think we shall have to think of some other arrangement, Circe. We shall be discovered eventually, if we aren't careful. It's only a matter of time before someone sees us together or spots one of us leaving the other's bedchamber…"

Circe sighed, knowing Severus was right in his morose summation. "Minerva is already asking questions about where I'm sleeping these days, if not in my own bed…" she muttered.

"And what did you tell her?"

"Most of the time I can just lie and say I'm off home for a gig, or to visit Dad… But three or four times a week? That's pushing it."

"Quite. And with Minerva literally on the other side of a wall to you, maintaining a silencing charm around your entire bedchamber all night is... draining."

"But what other options do we have?" She asked, exasperatedly. "It's "my place or yours" or nowhere."

"We shall think of something, Circe." he said gripping her tight.

"A dark corner? A broom cupboard? The potions storage room? Not exactly romantic is it, Severus. I want a bed for you and me to lie in, to sleep together in each other's arms in, a safe place that's ours, where we can shut the world out, hide ourselves away and relax…"

"I know. I know… I wish that too. But I'm afraid we may have bigger fish to fry now, my love..."

Circe's brow furrowed as she remembered that she felt clammy and agitated, but the reason why faded rapidly from the forefront of her waking mind.

"What were we talking about before Filch-"

"You don't remember?" Snape asked, surprised.

"I…. It was the dream… Something bad… But I was telling you, and I forget. You know I forget them when I wake up after a while, Sev."

"I know, that's exactly why I had you tell me what you saw." he said in a low voice. "Do you remember what you said about… Myrtle?"

Hearing the ghost-girls name again felt like a piece of the jigsaw puzzle had slotted back into position in her mind. The memory of the dream came screaming back into sharp focus in her mind's-eye in a flash. Circe's mouth dropped open as it all fell back into place. She nodded at Severus wide-eyed as she began to shake with fright again.

"He said… he said he'd known me for a while. And I've been having these dreams since… God, since the end of my second year here, Severus. It was him… all along. Watching me. Tempting me…"

"The diary." Severus grumbled, closing his eyes as understanding washed over him. "He knew you because you held his diary."

"What are you talking about?"

Severus turned to face Circe on the pillow beside her, his arm clasped tight around her as he held her trembling body firm. "I thought… you might be spared if you didn't open it… or write in it like the Weasley girl did."

"Ginny?" Circe asked, deeply confused. Then she remembered the girl as she had been back then, running through the pipes away from Circe, just out of sight, possessed by God knew what. And she remembered the book the young girl had thrown at her. "Tom Marvolo Riddle…" she whispered. The name coming back to her from the dregs of her mind, as if it had lay dormant there like a great eldritch beast, awaiting for it to be summoned forth once more.

"It was his. He and Voldemort are one and the same." Severus said gravely.

"But… but I _didn't_ open it! I dropped it in the bathroom once I'd crawled out the septic tank!"

"It doesn't matter. You touched it. And now he knows you. He's always known you…"

They lay in silence, both of their faces lined with sheer worry. Severus tried to fight back tears of frustration. The Dark Lord knew of Circe and his worst fears were slowly creeping into the light of day, steadily being made reality. He cursed himself for ignoring Circe's mention of her dreams earlier in the year, but coupled with her rapidly failing memory problems, the dreams had seemed inconsequential at the time.

_How wrong… How wrong I was yet again._

"What else did he say?" Severus asked, his voice etched with sorrow.

"That… I don't know… It's difficult to remember now. Something about a conclave and disciples coming to him."

"A gathering. So he is to return…" Severus breathed out a long sigh. "You said that you saw everyone who he had killed…."

Circe went rigid, having a strong, horrible hunch she knew what Severus wanted to ask next. Her already unsettled mood had her feeling vulnerable and tetchy and she felt like channeling some of her negative emotion outwards in whatever way she could.

"Just say it, Sev." she said cooly.

"Alright. Did you see Lily?"

Circe sat up brusquely, wrenching herself free of Severus's arms. "Why do you want to know?"

"Why do I…. Because I loved her, Circe."

""Loved"?" Circe snorted. "Are you sure you're using the right tense of that word, Severus?" she asked, on the verge of tears. She stood up, beginning to dress herself with her discarded clothes thrown haphazardly on the floor.

"That's not fair…" Severus replied weakly, a little hurt by what Circe was saying. "I've told you how much-"

"I saw her. I've seen her several times." she interrupted him haughtily. "You'll be pleased to know she's been saving me from Voldemort even from beyond the bloody grave. It would be very Lily to outshine me even when she's dead."

"Don't be cruel, Circe. It doesn't suit you." Severus shot back, his hackles raised.

"Oh that's rather rich coming from you, don't you think?"

"So you're accusing me of cruelty? What else exactly are you accusing me of? Because I loved her does not mean my feelings for you are any less diminished!"

"But you didn't want to love me, did you. It was always "against your better judgement" or "despite myself"."

"Because I don't know how to love without pain!" he shouted at her. "And for the longest time the pain of Lily was all I could feel, so I tethered myself to it to save me from drowning. So forgive me if I ask about her, you being the only person who has seen her for thirteen years! But all that was before you came along and you taught me better-"

"James was there too." she whispered, watching as his face flinched at the mention of Potter Senior. She knew she'd touched a nerve, but it still pained her to realise that he was still jealous of James despite what he had now, after all these years, despite her. She shrugged her coat onto her shoulders and left Snape staring morosely at his hands. She moved to the door but stopped as Severus called out to her.

"Are we really going to be like this, Circe? Isn't it enough for you to know I love you now? Whereas I think you want me to say I never loved Lily… and that would be untruthful."

Circe sighed and turned the handle. Maybe Severus was right and she was being the covetous and proud Gatsby of the story, unable to allow Daisy to have loved outside of them. "Perhaps I'm just selfish then."

"Where are you going?" he asked, desperately trying to avoid parting from her on these bad terms.

"I don't know. To find a green light over the Black Lake to stare at, maybe.."

* * *

By the time Circe had snuck past Filch and back up to her rooms, it was almost time for breakfast. The castle was slowly waking up and Circe took a few moments by herself in her conservatory to sit in the quiet and the greenery as daylight bled through the glass roof. How many times had she sat in these chairs, staring up into the sky, thinking about Severus? How many times more would she do the same thing, she wondered. Minerva, luckily was dressed and gone by the time she'd snuck back, but secretly she had hoped the older woman had still been there. If there had been anyone whomst she would have confided in about her and Severus finally being together, it would have been her. Minerva knew, despite her outwardly prim and haughty exterior, what to do in terms of matters of the heart. Circe wondered how her and her late husband had fared, coming together later in their lives and having lived separately and loved others before then. Circe wondered how she had become so jealous, so envious, when beforehand she hadn't given a monkeys who her boyfriends had been with before her. What made Severus different?

 _Because it's Lily…._ She thought miserably. _There will always be Lily._

She sighed, wondering whether she had overreacted a little. Perhaps the shocking revelations of the dream had unsettled her, made her more emotional and fractious than normal. It wasn't everyday, after all, that one realised the most dangerous wizard on the planet had been present in the most intimate parts of one's psyche. It felt like a violation, like he'd seen her at her most naked and open.

 _The sooner Severus agrees to begin teaching me occlumency, the better. When did dreams become so important?_ She wondered. _In the ordinary world, if I had a bad dream I'd walk down to Prince's Street and go get a McDonald's breakfast…_

But it was the realness of the dream that told her otherwise. The coldness of the marble floor, the pressing heat of the bodies around her…

She had never doubted once that what she'd seen had real life consequences.

Her Cantuscope was humming away noisily in her bedroom, ticking and whirring as the antennae twitched, sensing her odd mood. Circe rose from her seat in the conservatory just in time to see the display at its front change to "The Tower": sudden and unforeseeable change, danger, crisis, destruction. Circe sighed, wondering if Severus had been right in telling her the machine was unreliable with it's emotional detection. So far it had been nothing but spot on. The Cantuscope buzzed and crackled into life.

" _Shut up…_

 _Shut up!"_ Came a duo of voices from the speakers

Circe flinched. _Did that machine just tell me to shut up?!_ But then the guitar rhythm kicked in and the song commenced. She recognised the tune almost immediately. _You've Got to Hide Your Love Away._ She nodded approvingly, moving to the bathroom to wash and dress quickly before she went down for breakfast. She stopped her teeth-brushing dead to listen to the voices on the track. It wasn't The Beatles, it was someone else's cover, and she recognised the brash, brutal, no-nonsense voice on the song. A distinctive Gallagher rasp.

" _Here I stand, head in hands._

_Turn my face to the wall._

_If she's gone, I can't go on._

_Feeling two foot small."_

She changed into some new clothes after a speedy scrub down and a brush of her hair. Her curls flew out at a series of odd angles after she'd passed a comb through it, but she couldn't care less about its unruliness at that moment. Severus had commented quite a few times that Circe could have been Hermione's older sister, given the similarities of their locks, and Circe was admittedly seeing the comparison too as she looked at the bushy mess on top of her head. She tied it up into a quick bun, letting a few loose strands fall about her face and around her neck, deciding that would do just enough to be perceived as 'presentable'.

As she entered the Great Hall, several students were already tucking into their full english breakfasts, chatting excitedly about the final challenge that was to commence later that day. She looked around quickly, noting Severus wasn't there yet.

Circe was on her way up to take her place at the staff table when Ginny Weasley called out to her. "Oh, Professor Smith!"

Circe stopped dead in her tracks and turned to face her. Ginny was rising from her table with a scroll of parchment in her outstretched hand. "Your essay on Pre-Roman Welsh Celtic Magic, Miss Weasley?" she asked, falling back into her Professorly persona effortlessly.

"Yes. Sorry it's late." the young girl said as she approached Circe, placing the scroll into her outstretched hand. She was fresh faced and bubbling with excitement already. Her brown eyes sparkled with an energy that Circe was a little jealous of for that early in the morning. "I was waiting for a book on Rihannon of Powys to be returned to the library for my second to last paragraph."

"Oh, well thank you for making sure I didn't have to chase you up for it."

"Better to hand in something I'm proud of rather than something that's rushed or incomplete, right Professor?" Ginny asked, bright eyed.

Circe smiled approvingly at her. "Indeed." Ginny nodded and turned to sit back down at her bench. "Oh… Ginny…?" Circe asked suddenly, halting the Weasley girl's actions. Circe looked about the room furtively, feeling a gnawing sense of unease in her stomach, as if the very walls might be watching her, or unseen ears were gathering around her.

_Ginny might be the only other person in this castle who knows how you feel._

She stepped close to her student, leaning in so close to her she could have counted the freckles smattered across her youthful face. "A few years back… when we had all that horrible business with… with The Chamber of Secrets..." Circe whispered to her in a low voice. Ginny's face coloured almost as red as her hair and she looked to her shoes, embarrassed.

"Yes, Professor. I remember."

"Do you remember a… diary... that you threw at me down in the pipes?"

Ginny went from bright red to ashen white in seconds. " _His_ diary. Tom Riddle's." she muttered.

"I know what it did to you, Ginny. That diary. And I'm not angry with you. I… I just want to know… what did it feel like?" Circe asked cautiously.

"When… when he was in my head, Professor?" Ginny asked. Circe nodded. "I don't really remember it much now. But it always felt like it wasn't really happening to me. Like I was watching someone else do what I did… What he made me do."

"But did Riddle know you? Speak to you?"

"Oh yes, all the time. He showed me things that I liked, things that I found comforting and nice. Like... he'd make it seem as if I was at home with Mum if I was missing her. Or he'd show me… someone I liked… if I was thinking about them." Ginny spoke in hushed tones.

"And since Mr Potter rescued you, you haven't seen him or heard him? Like when you're dreaming?" Circe asked.

"Riddle? No. Not since Harry destroyed the diary. He must have killed whatever it was that connected us in The Chamber." Ginny said with a shrug.

 _Or Voldemort found a bigger target to concentrate his energies on._ Circe thought as a deep frown bloomed across her face.

"I don't really like talking about it, Professor. Can I go back to my table now?" Ginny asked awkwardly.

"Of course. Thank you Ginny, I know it must be difficult for you..."

"If you want to know about bad dreams, then perhaps you should talk to Harry." Ginny added.

"Harry?" Circe asked.

"Yes. He hasn't said anything much about them to us. But before the Quidditch World Cup, at the Burrow, I noticed he'd wake up every now and again saying his scar hurt or he'd had a bad nightmare…"

Circe thought for a while, trying to place exactly why the uneasy feeling in her stomach felt a little stronger than it had been before her and Ginny's conversation. It wasn't unthinkable to believe someone like Harry, who had experienced so much already in his short life, may suffer from bad dreams every now and again. But Circe was all too familiar with the consequences of ignoring dreams now. She nodded to Ginny and the red-haired girl turned on her heels and returned back to her seat.

Circe's stomach had not ceased churning uncomfortably since she'd woken up that morning beside Severus. She tried to force down a few slices of brown toast as she chewed miserably at the staff table, but the apricot jam she'd lathered on the top tasted too sweet and sickly. The butter was too salty. The bread too dry. After her second cup of tea, she abandoned her crusade to try and eat something and got up to commence the teaching day. She had a busy timetable that day and keeping the children's minds focused on Ancient Studies today was going to be a challenge. There was no Severus, he hadn't come to breakfast. Maybe that was for the best as Circe didn't know how she would have behaved around him if she did see him. Ziggy flew into the Hall and plopped her letters down in front of her, right on top of her uneaten slice of toast. She tutted, peeling the paper off of the sticky jam and cast an exasperated eye up to her owl, hovering in the rafters above.

"Cheers, buddy…" she grumbled as she wiped an envelope with her sleeve. She got up from her table, thumbing through her post as she ambled along to her classroom. One of them was from Remus, that she could tell. One of them from her Dad. And a third one in a hand she didn't quite recognise.

She sat down at her desk, tearing open her Dad's letter first. It was just a quick catch up, telling her of the goings on back home, how the boys were doing at school, Jane's planning of a second holiday up to Scotland. Matthew also mentioned in his note the many envelopes from the bank Circe seemed to be getting of recent. She groaned at that, thinking how far into the red her finances were, having chosen to pay for Remus's room in Edinburgh and all the additional wolfsbane ingredients she needed for his potion. The school wasn't stocking the supplies for it now Professor Lupin was no longer on the staff list, so Circe had found that once Severus's storage cupboards had been depleted, she'd had to start forking out for it. There really was no way they could justify buying the ingredients with the school's finances, given the potion was nowhere on the curriculum for any year group. Circe could see how Remus had almost bankrupted himself trying to pay for it all himself. The first of her students for the day were beginning to wander in and take their places at their desks as Circe reached the end of her Dad's letter:

" _I'd hate for that very nice Jag you've got sat in the garage to rust away to nothing. I've had a bit of a bonus at work recently. If you didn't want it, I could buy it off you? I might even let you take it for a drive from time to time when you're home for the summer, if you want to sell it that is._

_Lots of love,_

_Dad"_

Circe thought about her Dad's offer. It wasn't a bad idea. She didn't use or need the thing, and the money would help to keep Remus put up for a considerable amount of time. Plus, if Sirius Black ever came asking after his gift to her, she could still present it when needed. She reluctantly filed away the other letters she'd collected that morning and began her teaching.

"Right guys, we're going back through Atlantean culture and script." she announced to the group of Sixth Years with a bright smile. "Seen as Mr Diggory couldn't discern an "ehep" from a "say dehep" on his second-task egg."

The students groaned, uneager to revisit the difficult topic again. But Circe was having none of it, already handing out the hefty textbooks with a bang as she dropped them down on their desks one by one.

By the time morning break rolled around, Circe had watched Minerva pass by her classroom door in a hurry a fair few times. Sometimes accompanied by Dumbledore, sometime with Filius or Moody or Pomona… it was like watching a Benny Hill skit. Circe was just about to wander over to the Staff Room with her empty mug, when Minerva again walked past her door in a tizz.

"Min!" Circe called out. The Gryffindor Head of House came to a halt and turned to see who had called out to her. When she finally found Circe, her face was lined with worry, her arms nervously fluttering by her sides as she approached her with the speedy clacking of her heels. "What's going on?" Circe asked.

"Barty Crouch is missing." she replied gravely. "His house elves tell us this has been the case for a number of weeks now."

"Oh good Lord… Well, where was he last seen?"

"Here! After the second challenge. That's why I've been running around like a blue-arsed fly all morning, searching the grounds."

"Wha- they don't think… Something happened to him here? The second challenge was months ago, surely he would have been found by now if he's-"

"Oh it doesn't bear thinking about." Minerva interrupted. "But the poor soul was gone for weeks and there was nobody in his life to notice until now! After his poor wife died and his son… You know about his son, don't you."

"No , I don't think I do."

"Oh it was a terrible state of affairs! After the end of the wizarding war, Barty was the Head of Magical Law enforcement. He was the one who sent down all of You-Know-Who's Death Eaters."

 _Ah yes, the Nuremberg Judge._ Circe thought, her memory of reading of the trials coming back. "I remember. He was particularly linked to the Frank and Alice Longbottom case, wasn't he? You've got to be several shades of fucked-up if you could do that to someone else..."

"Well that's just it. Barty was forced to send down not only Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, oh and that nasty piece of work Bellatrix, but his son too!"

"His son was a Death Eater?" Circe asked, surprised.

"Indeed. Barty Crouch Junior. Broke his poor wife's heart, sending his own son to Azkaban. Her health was never right after that. She died about nine months back now, I think. Barty Junior also died in Azkaban around the same time, I believe…"

"Poor Barty." Circe said with a grimace.

"I just hope he's going to turn up in France or Bulgaria somewhere on Ministry business."

"Oh Minerva, that would almost be like good luck and lord knows we've had _stacks_ of that recently..." Circe quipped sarcastically.

"Well, one hopes against the odds…" Minerva said with a heavy sigh. "Alastor's confident that he could find Barty on Hogwarts's grounds by himself, if he is here. He doesn't want any Ministry help in hunting for him."

"He doesn't want the help of other Aurors? Why ever not?"

"He said he "doesn't want any Ministry goons interfering here"." Mcgonagall said flatly.

"But… what about Tonks? His own mentee?! She's been itching to see him."

It was all very strange to Circe. Tonks had written to her several times asking after Moody. Since before the summer at the World Cup, Tonks had told her Moody had been acting strange. Stranger than normal. Her old teacher had not sent her a word since he'd been at Hogwarts, and as much as it was typical for Moody to be a bit distant or brusque, for their relationship to have dissolved into nothing overnight was odd. Minerva could do nothing but shrug her shoulders at Circe's questions.

"Well, I'm teaching all day. But I could set some library research task and come and help you?" Circe offered weakly.

"Oh Alastor has also made it apparent he doesn't want the help of any staff either." Mcgonagall grumbled. Circe made a face of confusion and Minerva shrugged again. Mcgonagall moved to leave, off to one of her own lessons. "As if we didn't have enough of a busy day ahead of us already. How are the young ones?"

"Bouncing off the walls. Barely able to concentrate. Talking of nothing but Potter or Diggory. You know, just like usual."

Minerva chuckled. "And will you be joining us at the stadium tonight? Albus has rather outdone himself with this last challenge. The maze is huge."

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" Circe asked as Minerva hovered by her door.

"Well, you've had so many performances and engagements outside of Hogwarts recently…" she murmured. "It seems like you're hardly ever around the castle of an evening these days."

Circe blushed, avoiding the older woman's gaze awkwardly. It pained her to lie to Minerva so blatantly. And Circe had been right in her discussions with Severus earlier that morning, people were beginning to notice that her behaviours had changed.

 _How long will I be able to use the 'gig' excuse before someone realises that we're not doing any more shows than normal?_ She thought cynically.

"I will be there tonight. I wouldn't miss it for the world." she said finally.

Minerva smiled and nodded. "I shall see you later then." Mcgonagall swept from the room leaving Circe alone once more.

The next time Circe was able to look at her watch, a few more busy lessons had passed and the end of the day was near. It had been a long day of lingering, troublesome thoughts all swirling around in her head until she felt like a washing machine of worry. By the time the end of her last lesson drew to a close, Circe was emotionally exhausted. She bade goodbye to the last of her students as they shuffled out of the back of the classroom, unable to stay quiet with the excitement of the nearness of the final challenge. Circe could have told them that they had six essays to write for her by next lesson, and they wouldn't have batted an eye at her. She sat down at her desk, flicking through the books she had just taken in and realising she'd probably have to re-teach everything she'd been though today. Ginny's class, whom she'd taught at the very end of the day, were looking particularly weak in their understanding. She picked up Ginny's book and flicked to the back page, where she saw a massive doodle of Harry Potter's name, encircled with inky hearts and drawings of the young boy fighting off the dragon he'd faced in the first task. Circe laughed, despite her slight annoyance, understanding more of the comment the Weasley girl had made about the image of "someone I liked" Voldemort had shown her when she was younger. Her laughter soon dissolved back into a worried frown as her mind lingered over thoughts of Voldemort. She thought of all the times the Dark Lord had used the visage of Severus to tempt her. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, hoping and praying that the Dark Lord's memory of those dreams when he woke faded from his consciousness like they had before with Circe.

_And if he does remember everything? If he knows everything in excruciating detail? If he knows I'd follow Severus to the ends of the earth, even with everything that happened this morning?_

Circe pushed the thoughts of their argument away for the time being as her hand passed over her remaining letters from that morning. She saved the Remus one for later, and peeled apart the letter from the unknown sender.

There was no note, no words inside, but what did slide out of the folded envelope was a neatly tied bundle of hair. Circe frowned as it fell into her palm. It was dark, mostly black, but with a few strands of grey distributed throughout it.

"What the fu…" she breathed, holding it up into the light. Her thoughts halted as she heard the approach of Moody's uneven footsteps draw closer to her classroom. He lumbered into the doorway, leaning heavily on his stick and watching Circe silently as she sat at her desk. Circe felt a chill pass through her as his hefty presence blocked the light from streaming through her door. His eye whirled around in his head in that strange, dizzying way it often did and watching it twitch and move made her feel even more uneasy. She thought about asking him if he needed her for something, or if he required any help, but his presence alone was disquieting. She found herself utterly perturbed and silenced by his peculiar company. Moody's roaming eye finally stilled as he saw the bundle of hair she held in her hands and, saying absolutely nothing, he nodded succinctly to her and walked on.

Circe spluttered in disbelief, gobsmacked by the utter ridiculousness of it.

"Moody! MOODY!" she called out, rising from her desk and chasing after him. It had been a strange enough day already, without the ominous, creepy ball of hair in her palm and the downright weird behaviour of Alastor at her doorway. Circe's patience was paper-thin and she called out to him again. "MOODY!"

She reached the door, holding the bundle of hair in front of her like a bag of dog mess. But when she looked from left to right, up and down the corridor, Moody was nowhere to be seen. She grumbled and kicked at a nearby wall as she gave up chase, knowing that if the Auror wished to not be found, then she would not find him.

 _Why the bloody hell have I been given this? Did Moody send this to me?_ She thought, turning it over in her hands. It had been cut and bound rather meticulously, tied together with a thin strand of green ribbon. _And whose hair is this?_

* * *

Circe had been rather too unsettled to attend dinner that evening in the Great Hall. She stayed to her classroom, tucking the bundle of hair into the top drawer of her desk and nervously swinging on her office chair until it was almost dusk.

 _Perhaps I should ask Dumbledore about it. I'll have to tell him about my dreams sooner or later, especially if I'm to begin spying for the Order. Or I could ask Severus about it._ She wondered. Her chest ached when she thought of Severus, having tried hard all day to _not_ think about him. She'd stayed away from the staff communal areas today, just in case she ran into him, but perhaps she was behaving a little martyristically. Stranger and stranger things were happening as each day went by and it felt wrong to Circe that she should keep events which troubled her from him.

 _Lord knows we'll both need one another when the shit eventually does hit the fan._ Circe fiddled with the pencils on her desk, ticking over their argument in the early hours of the morning and what to do next.

Perhaps he had been right and she had been needlessly cruel in their argument. Circe found herself craving his touch, needing his comfort, longing for his soothing voice. Yet he must be as terrified as her, thinking of the great, unknowable void that stretched out before them.

That's why she decided then and there to go to Severus. Circe strode from her classroom with purpose, hoping she could still catch him in the dungeons and he hadn't left already to begin his suppertime duties in the Great Hall. She walked brusquely, keen to keep herself out of sight. Her heart raced every time she approached a blind corner, just in case a nosy Filch or a gobby teenager was loitering there. That was another thing Severus had been right about, Circe quietly admitted to herself. It really was becoming dangerous to be sneaking from one room to another like this all the time. It was a miracle they hadn't been caught already. But in the short space of time they had been together, she had come to cherish the presence of his body beside her in bed. It had been some years for Circe, and even longer for Severus, since she'd slept side by side with anyone, but now she found it difficult to go to sleep without him there.

 _But where else is there in this castle where we could carve out a tiny haven just for us?_ She thought, chewing her lip. _If we could find somewhere where prying eyes wouldn't think to look… but is there anywhere in this whole bloody castle that could be our little love-nest?_

She paused as she heard the sound of a familiar voice from down the corridor. Filch, muttering something to his cat again as he swept his broom along the flagstones. Circe looked around desperately for somewhere to hide herself. She wasn't sure exactly how much Filch had seen or heard last night and she was keen to avoid him because of this. If he saw her again, heading in the direction of the dungeons, then he might just put two and two together... There wasn't anywhere to hide herself: no alcove, no hanging tapestry, no corner, just a small, inconspicuous door behind her, embedded in the wall to her right that she'd sworn hadn't been there before… There was no time for Circe to ponder. She grabbed the handle and pulled it open with a huff before disappearing inside.

As the door closed shut behind her, Circe stepped into a perfect little room in which a large four-postered bed was placed, surrounded by a series of rich, red, diaphanous pillows and several maroon-coloured, flowing blankets. She thought for a moment that she may have stumbled into someone's bedroom, but there were no members of staff who had their chambers in this part of the castle. And Circe was sure that she'd never seen that door before today. Yet it was as if her prayers had been answered; it was quaint and small, but filled with several tall, gold candelabras bearing a series of brightly glowing flames, the bed looked wonderfully soft and inviting, the walls hung with a gentle gossamer that flowed lightly when Circe ran a hand over it. It was cozy, romantic, private, everything she could have asked for… She sat down on the bed cautiously, expecting there to be some kind of curse or a trap laid in the room, but there was nothing. It was wonderful, and she sank into the mattress as if it were made of marshmallow. Then realisation hit her. She'd read enough books on Hogwarts and studied extensively on the castle's history from her research a few years ago. She laughed aloud as she understood where it was she had found.

_The Room of Requirement… just gave me and Severus a shag-palace._

"Sev…! Sev..! Severus…!" came a series of short raps on Snape's door. He lay down his book and frowned, recognising Circe's voice in an instant.

 _What's she doing back down here? I thought she was displeased with me._ He thought to himself as he hurried to let her in. She sounded excited… Joyous, even. As he opened the door a crack, he peered at her through the gloom and frowned.

"What is it? Is something the matter?" he asked, his heart fluttering with anticipation as he recalled the rather uncertain terms on which they had parted earlier that morning. Circe grabbed his hand and dragged him into the corridor.

"Severus, you've got to see this." she muttered, all ill-feeling and tension between them forgotten for the time being.

"See what? What's put the wind up your sails, Circe?"

She turned to face him and smirked. "I think I've found a solution to our problems. Well… _one_ of our problems..."

"The important one?" Severus asked, following wherever he was dragged by her. "The one connected to imminent, oncoming danger and possible death?"

"Oh God, no. The considerably less deadly but most definitely as equally important one." she said, a small tinge of sarcasm to her voice.

"I… I don't-"

"I've found a place where you and me can meet, Severus. Without raising suspicion." she whispered back to him as she pulled him relentlessly on.

"How? Where?" Severus asked, a little dumbfounded.

"Just wait... "

Circe waited in front of a blank wall, watching patiently as she thought of the plush, red room she had seen before. And as the image solidified in her mind, the small, inconspicuous door emerged in the stone, much to the amazement of Severus. He stood at her side, watching in awe as the room appeared from nowhere. He didn't need Circe's prompting to go inside, turning the huge handle and pushing it open. Circe followed him in, giggling as she watched Severus staring around the quaint little room as she closed the door quietly behind them. It locked as it was pulled shut, as Circe was able to feel the sliding of metal and grinding gears under her hand.

_Ours, just for you and me to hide away. Literally shutting out the rest of the world._

"What is this place?" Severus asked, looking around with wide eyes.

"The Room of Requirement. Or "The Come and Go Room" as some of the early Hogwarts scholars called it. A room that can only be entered when the seeker has a real need of it. Sometimes it is there, and sometimes it is not, but when it appears, it is always equipped for the seeker's needs."

"Oh my… What on earth did you have on your mind when you were seeking out the Room then?" Severus turned to her, smiling wickedly.

"I didn't go purposefully looking for it! I was just… thinking about what you said last night, and then…. There it was."

" _That's_ what was on your mind?" Severus asked, stepping close to her. "Priorities, Circe…" he tutted.

"Yeah, well... There's only so much a person can dwell over the presence of the most awful and terrifying wizard known to history invading my most intimate dreams… Otherwise I'd just abandon myself to becoming a crying, wailing mess of fear…"

"Fair, fair." Severus nodded. " But I thought I was in the dog-house too, considering our fight early this morning."

Circe sighed, suddenly remembering why she had been on the way back down to Severus in the first place. "Can we… call a truce?" She asked tentatively.

Severus smiled sadly, taking her face in his hands. He kissed her, achingly slowly, lingering over the delicious taste of her on his tongue.

"I'm sorry, my love." He whispered. "I apologize if I made you feel-"

"Don't." She interrupted quickly, not wanting to bring up Lily's name again. The subject still stung as she rolled it around in her head, and right now she just didn't want the extra angst on top of all that had happened. She was prepared to shelf the "Lily issue" for another day. "I'm sorry too. It's just… difficult for me to understand right now. You know I love you, Sev? So, so much…"

"Today, tomorrow and as far into the future as you can see?" He asked, tucking a curl behind her ear.

"Absolutely."

"And I'm still yours, for as long as you'll have me." He purred, kissing her neck gently.

"Let's just hope that our future is ours to make… and a certain dream-invader doesn't take it away from us." Circe sighed heavily, feeling her heart flutter with anxiety.

She kissed him, before her mind could wander back to any more worries, stroking her hands over his chest as he pressed close. She bit his lip playfully and smiled coyly up at him as he cried out. Circe pushed him forcefully and he fell back onto the plush bed, gazing up at her adoringly as she climbed on top of him. She pressed her mouth to his again hungrily, feeling both of their desires rising until they were at a breathless fever-pitch.

"Do we have time?" Severus muttered, his hands already working at removing her shirt.

"Let the bloody task start without us…" she whispered back.

Severus chuckled, low and wonderfully seductively. He reached up into Circe's hair and grabbed a fistful, yanking her head back.

"Ow!" She exclaimed, a little startled.

"That's for biting my lip." He growled.

"I can do more than that to you, you wuss." She teased, her hand disappearing between his legs.

"I have a high tolerance for pain, Smith. Try your hardest."


	42. "The Swamp Song"

Chapter 42- "The Swamp Song"

Circe stumbled towards the stadium, pulling her coat hurriedly over her shoulders, in quite a hurry. Severus too was looking a little flushed as he straightened his collar, walking briskly at her side. All of the students were inside and waiting for the last challenge to commence and Circe heard the roar of the gathered crowd as she approached. The Hogwarts March played loudly in the air, a jaunty, catchy little ditty.

"You go in first, Sev." She said as they approached the stands. "And I'll wait a little while here, just in case anyone notices we've turned up together."

"Alright." He replied with a sheepish smile. His expression changed in a flash as he looked towards the stands. "Just keep a wary eye on Moody. That weirdness you told me of, about the bundle of hair, is..."

"Creepy? Unsettling? Sinister?"

"To say the least…" he muttered. "But don't let him see that he's alarmed you. Cards close to your chest from now on, Circe." Severus said a little sternly.

"Oh, is that my first lesson in espionage, Professor?" she replied with a wink.

Severus grimaced and rolled his eyes. He turned to leave but Circe grabbed his arm suddenly.

"Wait, wait…" She reached up to his collar, still in a bit of a crumple about his neck, and straightened it out for him. They locked eyes as Circe ran her hands down his chest again, smiling warmly at one another. Severus looked around cautiously for any prying eyes and after he was satisfied there was nobody watching, he leaned forward and kissed her.

His fingers caressed her cheek as his lips lingered on hers. The tickle of his hair on her face was as gentle as a soft breeze. She pulled back with a grin, chuckling at his persistence.

"Go! Or you'll miss the start of the challenge."

He grumbled and stepped back from her, clinging onto her hand still as he moved towards the stadium.

"Let go!" she chuckled, shaking herself loose. He groaned again as his hand dropped to his side and reluctantly turned, finally breaking eye contact with her, breaking into a light jog. Circe sighed to herself. For all Severus's talk of secrecy and "keeping cards close to your chest", he was the one who was finding keeping his hands to himself hard.

_And his lips…_

She rolled her eyes, thinking that it might be better if she found another entrance into the stadium to the one Severus had just used. She dragged her heels as she looked around her, seeing another entrance a little further around the curve in the stadium. It was quieter than the other entrance she had parted with Severus at. And it looked like it didn't lead directly into the stands. As she stole her way inside, she realised a little too late that this was the Champion's entrance. She looked around the small ante-room and saw Harry, Cedric, Fleur and Krum waiting patiently for the commencement of the final challenge, all of their expectant faces looking at her wide-eyed.

"Oh… Sorry…" she muttered.

"Professor, it's you." Cedric said brightly. "We thought you might have been that ghastly Skeeter woman." Krum stood up and began pacing nervously around the ante-room again. Fleur sat very still, almost as if she were meditating.

"Oh Lord, has she been snooping around again?" Circe asked as she gave a small wave to Harry, sitting patently in a corner, tapping his foot on the floor.

"She cornered Fleur a while back to ask her about which hair products she uses." Harry said with a small smile.

"WELCOME STUDENTS AND ADULTS, ONE AND ALL. HOGWARTS, DURMSTRANG, AND BEAUXBATTONS…" Dumbledore's voice boomed, shaking through the ante-room.

"Is my father out there, Professor?" Cedric asked, a small quiver of nervousness in his voice.

"I… I don't know. I haven't been out to the stands yet."

"FIRST, PLEASE WELCOME TO THE FINAL CHALLENGE, THE DURMSTRANG CHAMPION...VIKTOR KRUM!"

The crowd outside roared and Krum nodded curtly to the other champions, and finally to Circe, before stepping out into the stadium. The voices rose as he stepped into the light.

"How are you both feeling?" Circe asked looking to Harry and then to Cedric. "Nervous?"

"A little." Harry replied meekly. Cedric scoffed, but she caught the lightning-fast flash of unease on his face before he looked away from her.

"NEXT, PLEASE GIVE A BIG HOGWARTS WELCOME TO THE BEAUXBATTONS CHAMPION, FLEUR DELACOUR!"

Fleur rose up from her meditative position as the crowd's volume swelled again, a cheerleader-esque chant embedded in the noise coming from her fellow French girls. She too walked out into the adoration of the stadium, and Circe saw her waving to a few people around her as she disappeared from sight.

"I'm sure you'll both be fantastic, boys." Circe said, wrapping a comforting arm around Cedric and smiling warmly at Harry. "Show them all what true Hogwarts spirit is and send them crying back to The Continent." she said in mock viciousness.

Cedric scoffed. "Well, only one of us can win for Hogwarts, Professor."

"True, but just remember when you're out there that you're brothers. You'll only be a champion until the next Tri-Wizard tournament rolls around. You'll always be a Hogwarts student." Circe looked to Hary and watched as the young boy chewed over what she had said. "Just, look after one another out there." she finished, gesturing out towards the maze.

"Here that, Potter?" Cedric said with a mischievous air. "You've got the Professors so worried about you they're practically begging me to give you an easy ride!" Harry scoffed as Cedric broke from Circe's grasp to give him a playful rap on the arm.

"AND NOW, HOGWARTS. PLEASE WELCOME YOUR FIRST CHAMPION. CEDRIC DIGGORY!"

From somewhere out in the noise, Circe heard the cry of "MY BOY!" and Cedric beamed from ear to ear as he recognised the voice of his father. He looked one last time to Circe, his face illuminated with an expression of youthful pride. Circe nodded to him and said "Good luck, Cedric."

"Thanks Professor." he replied, before turning to the buzzing crowd and stepping out into the stadium.

Harry stood and walked slowly over to Circe's side, mentally preparing himself for his own entrance. He looked strangely calm as he gazed out into the roaring stands.

"Last but not least, eh Potter?" Circe chuckled. Harry snorted.

"Well, they've got to leave me for last. Everybody else has family to cheer for them, for me they have to build up the suspense to compensate."

Circe's heart ached when she heard that. "I'm sure your Mum would have screamed loud enough to put Mr Diggory to shame if she'd been out there."

"I… didn't think you knew my parents, Professor." Harry asked a little unsurely.

"I didn't…" she mumbled, turning a little red. She instantly regretted saying what she'd said, but it was too late now. "But I've heard enough about them to know they'd both be insanely proud of you and what you've achieved."

"Or maybe they'd have bitten my head off for somehow getting myself into _another_ dangerous situation." Harry grumbled.

"True… true. But if you were my kid, I could help but be a _little bit_ impressed that you'd managed to do all that you've done this year." She smiled at Harry and he back at her as Dumbledore made his last announcement.

"FINALLY, PLEASE WELCOME TO THE STADIUM, THE LAST OF OUR CHAMPIONS. THE SECOND HOGWARTS REPRESENTATIVE. HARRY POTTER!"

Circe clapped her hands and hollered loudly, but she hadn't needed to. The students screamed and bellowed their support for Harry so loud that the walls of the stadium shook. All of his friends in Gryffindor, and throughout the school, all joining together to give Harry the support he deserved.

Circe lingered in the ante-room, not wishing to draw attention to herself by walking out into the stadium before the challenge commenced. Everyone would be looking at her if she walked out of the champion's entrance now. She could hear well enough what was going on, thanks to Dumbledore's booming voice.

"AT THE SOUND OF THE CANNON, MR POTTER AND MR DIGGORY WILL ENTER THE MAZE AS THE JOINT FIRST-PLACE CHAMPIONS. THREE, TWO-"

_Boom!_

The cannon went off ahead of its cue and Circe almost jumped out her skin. Circe tiptoed cautiously up to the threshold of the entrance and watched from the shadows as Harry and Cedric strode bravely into the leafy arms of the maze. They were both swallowed up in the blink of an eye, engulfed by the enchanted branches and snaking ivy and Circe sent up a small prayer of good luck into the ether for them both.

"RIGHT MR FILCH, ON CUE THIS TIME!" Dumbledore boomed. Filch shrugged apologetically from behind his cannon. "ON COMMAND THEN, MR KRUM. THREE-"

_Boom!_

Circe laughed as the cannon went off. Dumbledore rolled his eyes and the crowd cheered as Viktor entered the maze. Without warning the cannon went off for a third time and Fleur too rather reluctantly followed her competitors into the maze.

After a moment's quiet, the Hogwarts brass band began repositioning themselves into the center of the stadium. It was due to be a long wait and there was little for the spectators to do whilst they waited for the victor to come back as the winner of the competition. Circe was able to slip out of the champions entrance unnoticed as the band began setting up on the stadium floor. She cast an eye over the stands and spotted amongst the visitors seats Amos Diggory, who had been making that substantial noise beforehand, a prim blonde couple whom Circe assumed were Mr and Mrs Delacour, and the little Bulgarian boy whomst she had last seen at the World Cup.

"Dimo!" She called out, waving at the little boy. Dimo tugged on a dark woman's arm sat beside him and pointed enthusiastically at Circe. He waved to her and Mrs Krum smiled politely at her. She smiled back and continued to her seat. Severus was eyeing her up from his position sat amongst the other Slytherins. A few rows in front of him sat Karkaroff with a vacant seat beside him.

"English, over here!" He called out to her, waving her over. "We have not spoken for so long, you and I."

"No, I've been kept rather busy recently." She replied, casting Severus a side glance as he smirked under a concealing hand. "How was the excursion to The Cotswolds?"

"Beautiful." Igor responded simply. The latest overnight trip for the overseas students had returned only yesterday. Circe had declined to accompany them on any more sightseeing trips throughout the UK, given the disaster of the Edinburgh trip. Yet, she would have liked to have seen Bourton-on-the-Water as it was a frequent day out for Circe and her family during her childhood days. Warm cotswold stone illuminated in a golden light of a summer day, thick strawberry ice cream eaten on a clipped green lawn, a babbling little brook ambling idyllically through the quaintest of English villages…

"You know, when I was a little girl, my Mum used to take me to this tiny village just outside Bourton. There was an old slate bridge over the river where we used to sit and have picnics, and there was a _massive_ trout that lived under the bridge. If you timed it just right, you could throw a bit of sandwich in the water and the fish would dart out from under the bridge and eat it."

"Ha, how wonderful. My daughter also enjoys throwing things in the water, just branches and leaves, but she is only five! We walk all the time by the river at home." Karkaroff said with a far-off look in his eye. Circe hadn't known Igor had a family back home in Bulgaria. He had spent the best part of a year here and he must have been missing them terribly.

"We call that Pooh-sticks in Britain." She said with a grin.

Igor's eyes bulged. "Whyever is it called that?!"

"After Winnie-the-Pooh. He does it with Christopher Robin in the children's book."

"Oh! Goodness me, I thought you meant the other kind of-"

"No, no… the English would never say anything so vulgar." She interrupted speedily.

Igor chuckled. "After many, many years of study, the English language still continues to surprise me!"

The brass band tuned up, tooting and trumping on their instruments as Filius clicked his conducting baton. Circe leant forwards in anticipation, unaware that Flitwick had organised entertainment for the spectators whilst they waited for the winner to emerge. The students poised their instruments at their mouths and after a moment's silence, Flitwick gestured for them to begin. Out into the silent stadium floated the beginning notes of 'A Bicycle Built for Two'. Circe's smile grew as she recognised the tune, singing along quietly to the song.

" _Daisy, Daisy_

_Give me your answer do._

_I'm half crazy_

_All for the love of you._

_It won't be a stylish marriage_

_I can't afford a carriage_

_But you'll look sweet_

_Upon the seat_

_Of a bicycle built for two."_

Circe remembered the song from her days in The Cotswolds, perhaps from a Merry-go-round or a fairground calliope. Some of the other muggle children in the crowd seemed to know it too and they too sung along.

"Is this a traditional English song?" Karkaroff asked.

"Yep, a real lazy, crazy, hazy day by the seaside sort of tune."

"My daughter, she is Margueritē! That is "Daisy" in English, no?"

"I think so, yes."

"Ha! You must teach me. I will sing it to her when I return home."

The brass band gave quite the quaint little concert to the waiting crowd. Some of the tunes Circe knew and some not, but it kept the students entertained enough as time wore on. Around an hour or so into the waiting, a bright crimson flare was sent shooting into the sky above the maze. The crowd and band fell silent as it exploded.

"Someone's in trouble." Circe whispered. She looked from Igor to Maxime, sat across the stands. Dumbledore stood up and waved his hand in a long sweeping motion, and at his command a great wind whipped up, stirring through the crowd with a whoosh. Circe stole a nervous glance at Severus and saw his face too was set into a stern mask of worry. The maze shivered as the wind swept through its hedges and before her eyes it seemed to warp and change shape. The band hurriedly packed away their instruments as the wind raised to a deafening roar. The huge maze groaned and creaked as it changed and shifted before her eyes. And then suddenly, from out of the ground at the stadium's floor, out spat Fleur.

Maxime exclaimed, rising from her seat and rushing to her student's side. Fleur was motionless on the floor, covered in dirt and leaves and Circe's heart leapt into her mouth as she sat up, gasping and hysterical.

"Il est ensorcelé! Il n'est pas lui-même…"

"Qui, ma chérie?" Maxime asked, kneeling at her side.

"Krum!"

Igor flinched at the mention of his student's name. And then another flare went off above their heads, bathing them all in an eerie red light.

"Igor, what did she say?" Circe asked, tugging at Karkaroff's arm.

But before he could reply, Karkaroff was clutching at his wrist, groaning as a sharp pain spiked through his entire arm. Behind her, she heard another stifled groan and she wheeled around to see Severus too clutching at his sleeve, his teeth clenched together in agony. He locked eyes with Circe as sweat began to pool on his forehead and white-hot panic seized his guts. His eyes were alight with real, tangible fear. A fear that turned Circe's legs to jelly beneath her and gripped at her chest like a vice was squeezing around her heart.

Krum was spat out of the bushes in the next moment. Fleur screamed and pointed hysterically at the young Bulgarian boy. Shouting at the top of her lungs in her delicate voice to keep him far away from her. But Karkaroff did not run to Krum's side as Maxime had done. Instead he turned to Severus with an ashen face and motioned to meet him outside of the stadium. Circe watched as Snape compliantly followed him, grabbing his arm as he passed by her.

"Tell me this isn't happening now, Severus." She whispered. Snape coldly avoided her stare, and walked on. The crowd was in a commotion around them, all eyes on Fleur and Viktor, no one paying attention to her, Snape or Igor. Severus was too stunned to think of a reply for her, his Dark Mark burning ferociously from beneath his robes, the pain consuming his every waking thought. As he moved to follow Igor, Circe followed him too, at a safe distance so as not to rouse suspicion. As she passed by Krum, she could see his eyes were glazed and distant, not wholly seeing what was around him.

 _Bewitched._ She surmised in her head. Luckily, Minerva and Dumbledore were there to care to Viktor, working their magic to remove the malicious spell upon him as his own Headmaster had abandoned him.

Circe slid away from the commotion, in hot pursuit of Severus and Igor. She broke into a nervous jog as she exited the stadium just in time to hear the two men in a vicious argument.

"He calls to us, Severus! He summons his loyal to him." Karkaroff shouted. "Surely even you cannot deny it now."

"And will you be answering his call, Igor? He shall expect us _all_ present at the conclave." Severus said gravely.

"The hell I will…" Karkaroff spat back at Snape, visibly shaking. "I need to return to Bulgaria as soon as possible… Take my wife, my child…"

"And you will all be hunted to the ends of the earth if you run from him!"

Karkaroff screamed anew, sinking to his knees as his Dark Mark seared. Severus too groaned and clenched his fist before him. Circe rushed to him, cradling his arm in her hands as she tore open his buttons. As she peeled back Snape's sleeve, she watched in horror as the snake of the

Dark Mark seemed to writhe and move of its own accord on his white skin.

"No… Already? So… so soon?" She stuttered, her mind in free fall. She had expected the Dark Lord's return to come sooner or later, but tonight? Right now? Her dreams had told her that Voldemort had intended to rise up once more in the near future, but imminently? That _very_ night?

Circe thought she'd have time to mentally prepare herself, to steel herself and make herself brave for his resurrection. She thought her and Severus would still have time to just be together. She thought she'd have time to train herself in the arts she'd need in the upcoming war. But no. Her and Severus both had been caught unprepared and still somewhat in willful denial. Severus stared into her frightened eyes with a hard look of resignation.

"The storm is finally here, Circe." He muttered miserably, caressing her face with his untattooed hand. "And it threatens to rip us all apart."

"And you?" Karkaroff called out to Snape. "You will go willingly back to his side and endanger your woman now too?" He pointed to Circe, understanding the bond that existed between them from the closeness of their touch. "English, I thought you were cleverer than to be caught up in this…"

"Igor…" Circe said as calmly as she could muster. "Go back to your wife, to Marguerite. Teach her that song, play Pooh-sticks with her. Hold them close and tell them that you love them… and then, for the love of God, hide them. Hide them like they are the most precious jewels in the world. You live by the consequences of your actions, and I shall live by mine."

Igor said nothing, staring at Circe with an unfathomable look. Circe too stood in silence, her jaw set firm and unwavering.

Igor nodded slowly, his bushy eyebrows knitted together in a deep frown. He stared long and had at his boots before finally looking at Severus and Circe both again.

"Dovizhdane to you both then." he uttered in a hoarse whisper. "Who knows if we shall meet again." And without another word, he turned away from the stadium and ran headlong into the black night.

Circe turned back to Severus's thunderous face, tears in her own eyes. She had no words for him, impossible to voice the bottomless pit of dread she felt within. And then a shrill, blood-chilling scream came from within the stadium.

"Oh no." Circe uttered. With Fleur and Krum already back, that scream of terror meant that only one of two people remaining in the maze were hurt, or worse. Cedric or...

"Lily's son..." Severus muttered under his breath as he barged past Circe. She gasped aloud as she heard what Severus had said. Those two simple words sending shockwaves of an awful, aching pain throughout her. She watched Snape hurry back towards the stadium, not even pausing to turn and look back at her once. He was like a guard dog, summoned to his station. Nothing else crossing his mind as he flew to Harry's aid.

Circe began to cry, a single tear escaping down her face. _When all is said and done, will it be forever this way? I will run to you, Severus. And you will run to Lilly._

She choked down a sob and ran after Severus, back into the stadium. More screams followed. But not from the same high-pitched voice as before, this time from a man. An older man whose wailing cries rang out into the cruel and empty sky. The stars looking down mercilessly, deaf to the noises of pure grief. As Circe drew nearer to the encircling crowd of people, she heard his gut-wrenching words clearer.

"That's my son... ! That's my boy…" roared Amos Diggory, in a voice that brought everyone around him to tears.

She pushed aside the other onlooking staff, her stomach in knots as the blood drained from her face.

She saw Harry: alive, bloody, hysterical, and bent over the lifeless body of another.

Any relief she felt for Potter's well-being evaporated instantly as she drew closer. "No… please no." she uttered, her words lost amongst the pained cries of the young Gryffindor.

"I couldn't leave him! Not there…"

As she drew nearer to the front of the crowd, she saw the face of the body whom Harry clung desperately on to. Cold and gormless. Bereft of all warmth and life and all the things that had made him who he was. Confirming with her own eyes what her shattered heart already told her: Cedric was dead.

* * *

In the chaos that followed Cedric's death, she lost sight of Severus completely. Somewhere along the line, she found herself being swept back up to the castle with Minerva and the other Hogwarts staff. The Ministry and their Aurors had been summoned and some of them were already swooping through the castle grounds, searching for information, clues, anything that might explain the awful situation that played out before her eyes. Circe shivered as the bitter winds whipped around her, whipping up her curls around her face and sending Minerva's skirts billowing in the breeze. She couldn't stop the tears, crying freely and openly with the other adults as they marched their slow and mournful steps back up to the castle. The stars were bright and still staring down on the horrors below them with a cold and distant nonchalance.

 _How could this have happened? In my home? Under my watch?_ Circe thought, her eyes clouded with tears as the castle landscape blurred around her. All she could see was black, and grey and deep terracotta colours and shapes swirling around her as she walked on. And then a shock of pink that made her do a double take.

She wiped her eyes and squinted into the gloom. "Tonks?"

"Circe!" a familiar voice called out and rushing into Circe's field of vision was her old friend. She enveloped Circe in a tight hug as she wept into her friend's shoulder.

"He was my student, Tonks…" she wailed, her shoulders shaking violently with her sobs.

"I know. I know…" she cooed gently, waiting patiently for her to stop. "The other Aurors are doing a sweep of the castle and keeping the other kids calm whilst they… sort out what to do with the boy."

A set of uneven footsteps behind her made Circe turn around. She saw Moody, solidly holding up Harry with a strong arm, taking him away to somewhere private. Circe's tears started anew as she saw the vacant and haunted look of the young boy, looking into the middle distance, seeing nothing that was before him but deep in his remembrance of the horrors he had just witnessed. Moody's walking stick thudded into the floor with each powerful stride. Harry leaned on him like he was the last standing mast of his sinking ship.

"Moody!" Tonks exclaimed abruptly.

"I'm just taking Mr Potter to my office, Professor." Moody replied to Circe, completely ignoring Tonks beside her. His eye swiveled in his head as he cast his gaze over the both of them.

"Moody, why haven't you replied to any of my letters?" Tonks asked brusquely.

"Tonks…!" Circe murmured, pulling on her arm.

"I believe there is an appropriate time and place for enquiries such as this, Miss Tonks. Now not being one of them…" Moody replied gruffly, barging past them both as he dragged Harry with him.

Circe grimaced and turned to Tonks with a stern look. She was about to say something chastising but all that came out of her mouth was a whimper.

"Circe…" Tonks muttered, pulling her in close. "He _never_ calls me "Miss Tonks". It's always "Nymphadora"."

"But… no one calls you Nymphadora. You hate it."

"Yeah, that's exactly why Moody called me it. No matter how many times I told him I hated it. He'd always make a point of it cause he told me "your parents gave you that name, so I'm going to be making sure that _someone_ uses it properly"."

Circe furrowed her brow and looked dumbfoundedly at her friend. "And before I said your name, it was like he didn't even know you…"

Tonks was called away by another Ministry Auror, and she reluctantly left Circe to see to her duties. Yet Circe was still left with a strange, bitter taste in her mouth. Something felt wrong. Wronger than it should.

She ambled on to the clocktower courtyard, at a loss for what to do with herself. She could vaguely hear the noises of Dumbledore and Mcgonagall talking heatedly to one another. Minerva throwing out a few "I told you so"'s and Albus arguing back at her unapologetically.

"I warned you, Albus! I warned you that our students were in danger because of this _barbaric_ tournament!" Minerva screeched

"You cared only for Harry! Looking after only for your blasted Gryffindors. Cedric never crossed your mind once." Dumbledore spat back.

"How dare you! And you are Headmaster to them both! Sometimes Albus, I do wonder where your priorities lie..."

Their argument raged on. It was the angriest and most upset she had ever seen her friend. But Circe felt like she was underwater, distant and removed from everything else around her. She was watching the rip-roaring argument the staff were having from the otherside of a glass windshield. Their voices were far away, the cold of the night air barely an icy lick, the raw emotions floating about between them passing by her and through her like distant sailing ships. Her mind would not allow her to leave Moody. Again it was like she held all of the pieces of the jigsaw in her hands, but just couldn't figure out how to place them all together to get the full picture. The only thing that seemed to rouse her from her dream-like state was the shadowy figure of Severus honing into her view from the darkness under an archway at the courtyards' perimeter. He too seemed to be watching the horror unfold, numbed and removed from it all, but his eyes found her and they glinted with sorrow. Circe's chest ached as she looked at him and she found she could not bear the pain of all he had said on top of Cedric's death. The memory of those words he had uttered under his breath when he had heard the scream was like a shard of glass embedded in her mind. It was sore to touch. He was excruciating to look at. She turned from him, sitting down at the edge of the old, abandoned fountain at the courtyard's center. She shivered as the wind picked up, blowing through her like the touch of the cold hand of death.

 _Pity I don't have any of Moody's weird whiskey to keep me warm…_ came a thought into her mind, seemingly out of the blue. _No, no whiskey. "Loyalty" or whatever trollop he was on about._

The comment had seemed so odd at the time, nothing more than the ramblings of a mad man. But in light of the grim events of the evening, it again seemed to not quite sit right. She remembered Igor's words from earlier, ann echo of Moody's own language:

" _He summons his loyal to him."_

"Harry… Where is Harry?" Dumbledore asked suddenly. Circe looked up from her miserable ruminations and watched as the Headmaster grew agitated and a touch fearful. Severus too emerged from the shadows, like a bear from hibernation, upon hearing Potter's name. "He shouldn't be let out of our sight! I told you all to keep Potter where I could watch him. He was with us all as we made our way up to the castle..."

"Moody has him." Circe said, rather shortly. "The boy's been through a lot and Alistair probably wanted to spare him an inquisition of questions."

Dumbledore fell silent and Circe watched as his expression turned from one of confusion to one of panic. He turned to Snape and uttered, "Severus, did you tell me the other day that someone has been stealing from your potions cupboard?"

"Yes, Headmaster…" Snape replied slowly. Circe stood up and wandered over to Dumbledore's side. "Although I believe I know where an element of the thievery has been coming from."

"I believe what Severus is trying to say, Headmaster, is that I have been utilising some of the school's supplies to brew wolfsbane for Remus." Circe said bashfully, preparing herself for a disciplining. She didn't want Severus covering for her anymore. She still couldn't stand to look at him, and he was doing his best to avoid her eyes too.

"What? No, no, no… We've known about that for months… " Dumbledore waved a sleeve at her irritably. "Have you had boomslang skin missing? Lacewing fly?"

"I have." Snape said plainly.

"Professor Smith, where did Moody say he was taking Harry?" the Headmaster asked, grabbing her shoulders desperately.

"His… his office." she stuttered.

"You don't think…" Snape breathed, his already pale face draining of colour.

Circe completed the thought before Severus could voice it, gasping aloud. _He's the one who's been making the polyjuice potion…_ "He didn't know Tonks, Headmaster. His own mentee. Hasn't communicated with her for months."

Dumbledore let go of his iron-hard grip on Circe's shoulder and turned to Snape. "Severus, fetch your veritaserum."

* * *

The face that stared back at Circe was not Moody's anymore. He was a young man: yellow hair and dark circles under his eyes, a vicious snarling mouth that spat and hurled insults at the gathered Professors. He was bound tight by Dumbledore's restraining spell, but it was Severus's potion that was working its magic, forcing him to spew forth the truth:

"Called me "Mad-Eye" you did. Each and every one of you, behind my back! Well, we'll see who's mad, now that the Dark Lord has returned, with me, his loyal disciple, at his side! He is back, Harry Potter, you did not conquer him!"

Barty Crouch Jr sat back in his chair, cackling with a terrible throaty growl as Harry was ushered out of the office by Minerva. It was all Circe could do to not quiver with shock as she held her wand out before her, squarely at Crouch's face. That awful, flitting, spinning eye sat discarded at her feet, still moving of its own accord. It had almost snapped off Crouch's face when his polyjuice potion wore off and his true features bubbled back into position. All Circe could do, when he turned from the lined and weathered features of Moody, into the gaunt and thin face of the man she saw now, was watch in absolute horror.

 _It wasn't whiskey in that hip-flask. Or bloody smoothie. How stupid… it was the potion._ Circe thought, her head a mess of realisations and revelations.

_You haven't been writing to Tonks because you don't bloody know her. And you still didn't bloody know her when she was stood right in front of you a moment ago._

Dumbledore crouched before a huge trunk pressed up against the wall of the office. A set of heavy iron keys sat in the lock at its front and he turned it sharply to the right, hearing the mechanisms within clink and shift as the lid sprung open. The Headmaster helped the real Moody out of his own magical trunk, shouldering the depleted weight of the Auror as he escorted him to the hospital wing; His wooden leg was gone, the socket that should have held the magical eye looked empty beneath its lid, and chunks of his grizzled hair were missing _._ Circe wrinkled her nose as he passed by; he stank, having spent months trapped in his own trunk by Crouch Jr. But as Albus left her and Severus, instructing them both to keep a watchful eye on the impostor Crouch, Circe finally came to the worst realisation of them all.

"Voldemort told you of me, didn't he." she asked suddenly. Severus almost flinched as he heard the words emerge from Circe's lips, and the anguish that gripped his stomach deepened as he saw the awful smile etched on Crouch's face. "That's why you were banging on about "loyalty" to me. You think I'm one of you."

"Oh are you not? You are Severus's missus, aren't you?" Barty responded with a derisive smirk. "Our master told me all about the dreams you and him have shared. How he has tempted you to his ranks. Filled your mind with the great and good things he can promise. Oh but Severus, you _will_ have some explaining to do, seen as you didn't respond to his call to action and bring your little girlfriend with you. She needs to meet the rest of the family, Snape..."

Snape shared a furtive glance with Circe, and she was able to read its meaning immediately: Barty was none the wiser to either of their true allegiances. He believed, and likely so did the Dark Lord, that Severus was still aligned with them after all these years and Circe was following him into the path of darkness. His double agent status still held. And she was the new hopeful recruit, drafted into the Death Eater ranks by him. But Circe was silently, internally willing him to stop speaking. She wanted to scream at him to shut up. Her stomach felt nauseous. Her vision went blurry.

"Oh dear, you have been neglecting your duties of turning her into an agent provocateur, Severus." Crouch laughed again, noticing her discomfort. "Or is she more suited to keeping your bed warm as opposed to any kind of espionage work?"

Severus smacked the back of his hand over Barty's face, sending him lurching to the side, spitting blood onto the office floor. Circe flinched, shrinking into herself at Severus's show of sudden violence.

"Sev, don't!" She muttered, reaching out to take his arm.

"I must say, it has been rather touching watching you two dance around one another this year. Like watching a fly caught in a spider's web ." Barty uttered, shaking his head from side to side as he recovered from his slap. Circe didn't even have to ponder over who was the fly and who the spider in Barty's analogy. "I didn't think you had it in you, Severus, to be the kind of agent who lays a honey trap to get a potential disciple on-side."

Severus was turning a strange shade of crimson, clenching his teeth together in anger. It was just as Lucious had hinted at at the very start of the year: they all believed that he was some kind of preying incubus, seducing Circe into Voldemort's ranks. Circe had to think of something quickly, or else risk both of them being outed after Severus lost his temper or showed his true feelings.

"What makes you think _he_ seduced _me_?" Circe uttered to Crouch with her best play-smirk. Severus's eyes bulged as he heard what she'd said, but he did not contradict her. An outwards image of total coolness whilst his heart beat frighteningly fast inside him.

"Ohhh. So it was like _that_ , was it now….? What happened, Severus? After all these years living amongst the enemy, without the Dark Lord's guidance, you found yourself turning soft?" Barty asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Until I came along and… re-affirmed his love for the dark arts, for the superiority of the pure-blood race." Circe continued, effortlessly lying. "I had always been an admirer of the Dark Lord, but until I came to Hogwarts I had no means of being able to find him. Until I met Severus... and that handy little tattoo you all have on your arm was finally my connection to _Him._ His dreams were one thing, a beautiful taste of what the Dark Lord offers, but how could I go to him with only dreams as a guide? With Severus, I had my direct link. When he rose again, I would know!"

"So why not fly to his side tonight? On the night of his glorious return? With Pettigrew, and Crabbe, and Macnair and Malfoy? He shall know… he shall know of those who were too cowardly to return and those who have left him forever."

"And he will also know who his most loyal servant is." Circe said, gesturing back to Snape with a flick of her wrist. "Lying dormant all these years, waiting to become his cuckoo in the nest of the phoenix once more."

Barty Crouch sat in his chair, hands bound, his smirk slowly curling upwards on his grey face. He scoffed. "Behind every great man, there is an even greater woman, ehh Snape?" he muttered. "If I'd have known your feelings for the cause were as strong as you've said, I would never have bothered with my riddles of whiskey and warmth. The three of us could have stormed this castle in His name. But I believe the Dark Lord has other purpose for you…. If you let me loose now we still could-"

"Purpose? What purpose?" Severus asked, killing dead Crouch's pleas to be let free.

"You will still need to prove your loyalties to him. You, Circe, to be indoctrinated into the inner-circle, and you Severus to reaffirm yourself."

"Prove how?" Circe asked, a quiver of uncertainty in her voice.

"You got my little present, Circe. The hair…"

"Yes, but what does it-" Circe halted mid-sentence as she heard footsteps approaching the office. Dumbledore and another voice with him.

"Unbind me!" Couch repeated again, more desperately.

"Whose hair is it, Barty?" Circe asked hurriedly.

Barty laughed sinisterly again, "I'm afraid Dumbledore hasn't discovered _all_ of my secrets in this room…" Severus and Circe in unison, glanced around the dark office and then at one another. "Lift the binding spell on me now! Before Dumbledore gets here!" he cried, excitement in his voice. He frantically pulled at his firmly welded into position arms, stuck mercilessly to the sides of his chair. He glanced at Circe and then to Severus, his excited face falling into one of dawning realisation as neither of them moved to aid him. They looked back at him, stone-faced and still. Dumbledore swept back into the office with Fudge just as Crouch realised he'd been had by them both.

"You liars…" he uttered.

A coldness settled over the room as Fudge ushered in a single black-robed Dementor. Circe sharply sucked in her breath, surprised at seeing the guardian of Azkaban once again in Hogwarts's grounds and feeling an icy stab of sadness slicing at her heart as the Dementor floated ominously in the empty space of the office.

"Barty Crouch Junior, as the Minister for Magic I hereby exercise my right as head of the wizarding community to grant you relief from your torment." Fudge recited levelly, every inch the statesman.

"You… you lying snakes!" Barty roared at Severus and Circe again.

"I therefore pass judgement on your recent declining mental state, and dub you a raving lunatic."

"You will pay! You will both pay for your treachery when the Dark Lord finds out!" Barty spat at Circe's feet. She began shaking again and Severus held her by the shoulders as he drew her away from him and the Dementor drifted silently nearer.

"The wizard formerly known as Voldemort has not and never shall return. So therefore, as Minister, I grant unto you the last mercy: the Dementor's Kiss."

"Cornelius!" Dumbledore exclaimed. Circe gasped too. Barty thrashed about in his chair, fighting desperately against his bindings, roaring at the top of his lungs.

"I am the Minister for Magic, and my ruling is final!" the normally calm and placid bureaucrat shouted. "Dementor, you may commence."

The Dementor leaned in close to Barty's contorted, screeching face and extended a long hand out to him.

"No! No!" Crouch roared, but his cries fell on deaf ears.

A hollow, sucking sound began from the very depths of the Dementor, low and subdued to begin with, but steadily growing in power until the noise filled the room. It was like the gasp of a dying man. Of water gurgling down the drain. Of nails down a chalkboard. It was horrible to listen to, but also enthrallingly awful. The Dementor opened its great, gaping mouth, bereft of teeth, rotting and putrid smelling and began sucking the very air from Barty's lungs. The young man's cries withered away to almost nothing. He choked and spluttered, his eyes bulging with fright as he felt his whole being collapsing in on itself. First his chest seemed to crumple, like a piece of parchment scrunched up into a ball, and then his throat did the same, then his cheeks… Circe had to look away, burying her face in Severus's chest when Barty's eyes withered away to a crinkled and squashed mess. His skin turned leathery and dry, his limbs withered away to the bone, his yellow hair fell off his head like falling straw. When the Dementor finally lay its slick lips on top of Barty's warped and twisted mouth, there was a dried and emptied husk where once there had been a man.

Circe looked up from Severus's chest to the mummified horror that sat now in the chair where Barty had been. Tears rolled down her face once more and she wailed aloud, covering her mouth from what she had just witnessed. But the moment that would continue to live in her nightmares forever came when the husk of whatever remained of Barty suddenly sucked in a long and agonizing breath. Alive, but soulless.


	43. "But now is not the time to cry. Now's the time to find out why."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, this chapter got me feeling a bit emosh

Chapter 43 - "But now is not the time to cry. Now's the time to find out why."

In the days after Cedric's death, Circe found it difficult to sleep. Every time she seemed to drift off, after sobbing into her bed and passing out with sheer exhaustion, she would see the gasping, leathery face of Barty Crouch Junior lunging at her. Dead eyed and empty.

Her and Severus had kept their distance from one another. He knew that Circe was hurt by what he'd said when he'd heard the screams of terror from the stadium. And on top of all of that, Cedric's death had confirmed in his mind just how deadly the mere association with him could be for her. So, he retreated into himself, and she did too. They hadn't spoken to one another for three days. Lost in the haze of grief and mourning that had settled over the castle like a black, damp mist. There was no laughter in those days, from staff or students. No warmth, no normality. Just sorrow and a confusion that no one seemed to have any answers for.

It was around three o'clock in the morning when Circe rose from her bed, unable to fall asleep with a loose end from her and Barty's conversation on her mind. She strode hurriedly down the empty Hogwarts corridors towards her classroom. Her feet only lingered when she passed the memorial to Cedric…

It had sprung up just outside the prefect's lounge. Just a picture of him to begin with, and then flowers, dozens and dozens of bouquets, were laid around the photograph, illuminated by a carpet of softly flickering candles. Then more pictures were left, some of Cedric with his friends, laughing, smiling, his arms around them, some of just himself. Fat teardrops littered the floor around Circe as she spotted a new picture of Cedric and Cho, taken that Christmas down in Hogsmeade, his arms enveloped around her as he drew her into a kiss on the cheek. Her heart ached for Cho, another victim somewhat forgotten in the aftermath of that terrible night in the maze. Circe found herself thinking on the cruelty of death, not on those it takes away, but on those it leaves behind. The memorial spanned almost the entire corridor now, and Circe had to tiptoe her way through the offerings and candles and flowers, wading through the epicenter of the school's grief. She shuddered as she tried to stifle the sobs in her chest, but all that rang in her ears were the agonised cries of Amos Diggory, wailing over the body of his only son. Taken by the very person whomst Circe too shrank back in fear from.

Her face was still wet when she reached her classroom and she wiped her face with a sleeve as she hurried to her desk. Circe opened the top draw and there, sitting on top of a pile of papers and useless knick-knacks, was the bundle of hair she had received from Moody.

 _Not, Moody. Barty Crouch Junior._ She corrected herself.

She turned it over in her palm again, examining it by the silvery moonlight that illuminated her classroom. The strands of grey in it seemed to almost glow in the darkness.

 _Who do you belong to?_ Circe thought, not for the first time. _And why did he want me to have you?_

A whooshing, sweeping noise made Circe look up from her close inspection of the hair bundle and she saw a telltale black robe float past her classroom door. She tiptoed as quietly as she could over to the corridor, pushing the bundle of hair into her pocket. Her heart started hammering in her chest as she drew closer, unsure of who it was who stalked the shadows nearby. Was it another Death Eater? Was it the Dark Lord himself? She drew out her wand and readied herself to cast a nasty hex at the possible intruder. But when she peered into the gloom, standing stoically in the middle of the corridor, like a black-winged grim reaper, was Severus.

"So, are you ready?" he asked, his voice cold and unemotional.

"Ready?" Circe asked. She breathed a sigh of relief, but the icy atmosphere sitting in the space between them did little to calm her.

"To search Moody's office. I had to wait until you retrieved the hair. I did not wish to rifle through your belongings..."

"How many nights have you been waiting for me to turn up here, Severus?" she asked. He did not reply to her, merely turned on his heels, his long black cloak making it appear like he was floating on air, and walked away towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom. Circe sighed and followed him.

They walked along together in utter silence. Each footstep that echoed off the floor was like the ring of a death knell. Neither of them knew how to bridge the gap that grief and jealousy had created between them and neither was in the mood for small talk.

As Severus pushed open the door to Moody's office, Circe couldn't help but flinch as she saw the vacant chair where Barty had sat as his soul was sucked from his body. She felt Severus's eyes upon her at her sudden, frightened movement, but she walked on into the room, keeping her eyes firmly before her. There was nothing in the office of Moody's anymore. All his belongings had been inspected and packed away by the Ministry's employees before being sent back to the real Alastor's home in Ireland. The only thing left that hadn't been posted back to him yet was the magical trunk.

 _God, would Moody even want that thing back given he was trapped in it for the best part of a year?_ Circe thought, grimacing as her eyes passed over the box.

"Well, Barty was clearly lying." Circe said, flapping her arms frustratedly. "There's nothing in here that the Ministry hasn't already been through. There can't have been anything else left to find."

"I know how to spot an unconvincing liar when I see one. Crouch Junior was not lying." Severus muttered, moving about the room, inspecting every little nook and cranny for anything that would reveal the "secret" the Death Eater had hinted at before.

Circe swallowed hard. "Is that supposed to be a dig at me, Severus?" she asked defensively. "Because of what I told Barty the other night?"

Severus straightened his back and looked at Circe with a glare that turned her blood cold. Here they were not ten minutes in each other's company and their conversation had already turned confrontational. Right to the bud of what sat sore and unspoken between them.

"All I have to say about _that_ is that it was lucky Barty was given the Dementor's kiss that very night. If he'd have managed to escape back to the Dark Lord, neither of us would have lived to see next week."

"I still got information out of him before he figured it out though…" she responded haughtily.

"And you played fast and loose with both of our lives."

"Oh Severus, does it matter?! We still got what we wanted. A foot in the door of Voldemort's inner circle and answers to some of the questions we've been asking for months." Circe scoffed and looked around the empty room exasperatedly. "Jesus, Severus, it's like you've just realised exactly what game we're playing."

Severus growled. He thrashed out and kicked at the trunk with an animalistic roar as his temper flared.

"Do you not understand, you stupid girl?!" he hissed through his clenched teeth, standing mere inches from Circe's face. "Someone who was meant to be in our care, whom we were meant to protect, he was killed because of that "game"."

"You think I don't mourn Cedric's death too?" she snarled back at him. Severus had touched a nerve, voicing the very thing she had accused herself of over and over again, what every staff member of Hogwarts had accused themselves of since they first heard the agonised howls of Harry and Amos that awful night. "If I could lay down my life and have it guarantee that no more of our children die at His hands, I would do it, Severus." she choked out, her voice thick with emotion.

"Cedric died because I was distracted... Distracted by _you_." he uttered, his voice cracking as hot tears sprung up in his black eyes.

Circe gasped, looking at Severus with a pained, wounded look. "So this is all my fault?" she asked hoarsely.

"No… it's mine. It's _my_ fault. When I was alone… I was vigilant, I was alert, I was miserable, but I still protected those who I was bound to."

"Lily's son still lives. You rushed to his side like a worker-ant when called." Circe said derisively, finally voicing the hurt she had felt since Severus had uttered those very words.

"Are you jealous of the boy?" Snape asked incredulously.

"Yes!" she shouted as a thick silence settled over them. Her answer had surprised even herself and she wiped the tears that had sprung up in her eyes away with a sleeve. "And of Lily. Of everything she meant to you and you still do in her name. I know you once told me to not compare myself to a dead woman, but I can't help but wonder if you ever brutalised yourself for loving her like you just did with me."

Severus blinked back tears. His throat too tight to even muster a reply.

"And if I was the reason for your "slip in vigilance" as you say, then…. Then…" Circe whimpered.

"Then what?" Severus asked

"Then perhaps I should have gone home at Christmas after all."

A loud thump emanated from the magic trunk and Severus and Circe both were ripped from their heated, emotional argument to stare at it.

"There's something in there..." Circe muttered.

"Impossible… Moody was the only thing stored in there. It should be empty now."

"Obviously not…" Circe walked over to the trunk and crouched down before it as Dumbledore had done. The keys still sat in the lock, in the position they had been left in when the real Alastor Moody had been dragged from its depths. Circe traced a finger over the iron keys, turned a quarter turn to the right and puzzled as she lifted the lid and peered into the gloom. She whispered the lumos spell and light shone into the cavernous depths of the trunk, all the way down to the empty floor. The walls were stained and the floor dirty, but there was nothing in it. She withdrew her head from its depths, frowning deeply.

"You heard that noise the same as I." she said to Severus, hovering over her left shoulder. She closed the trunk's lid and it clicked back into position. "There was definitely something that shifted or moved in this trunk."

Severus bent down beside her and ran his long fingers over the iron keys. He turned them back a quarter turn to the left, to their original locked position and he jiggled the trunk's lid, conforming that it was tight shut. He turned the keys back to the right and the lid opened once more to reveal the empty cavern of nothing. Circe puzzled and moved to grab at the keys herself. As her hand settled on them, however, her fingers collided with Severus's and he shrank back from her as if she were a venomous snake. Her heart ached at that, but she pressed on. She turned the keys left, locking the lid and then paused. Her intuitions were telling her to try something….After a tense moment of doubt she gave the keys an experimental twist to the left again, turning them in the opposite direction to the way Dumbledore had unlocked the trunk. But instead of sticking and refusing to budge, the keys turned a quarter turn to the left and Severus straightened up as the lid popped open again. Circe gasped, amazed that her instincts had been right and she threw back the lid of the trunk to reveal a completely different interior to the one they had seen before. However, her and Severus both were forced to shrink back from the trunk, gagging, as a putrid, rotting smell wafted up through the opened lid. She covered her mouth as her eyes watered from the awful stench within, stealing a cautious glance down the cavern of the magical trunk. There, sitting at the bottom of the pit, was a body.

"Oh God… Who is it?" Circe asked, feeling like she was going to vomit.

Severus leant forward and peered into the trunk too. "Barty Crouch… Senior."

* * *

"A dual chambered trunk…" Dumbledore muttered as he paced about his office. Circe sat in an almost comatose state in the chair opposite his desk, staring at lovely young Fawkes on his perch. "I must admit I am a little embarrassed that I did not discover it myself."

Once again, Circe found that she was lightly brushing her thumb against the bundle of hair in her pocket again. Barty Crouch Senior's hair. She sucked in her breath and withdrew her hand from her pocket, laying it resolutely on her lap. It had been a long while since she'd slept well, and she wondered when she would be able to get a truly peaceful night of rest next.

"Dumbledore, I want to be in The Order." she said firmly.

"Oh, I assumed as much after Severus told me of the revelations behind your dreams. And of course, what happened with Barty Crouch Junior the other night."

"He told you? He told you about my dreams? About _us?"_ she asked meekly.

"Of course. It was a necessary confession. One that I must say brought me a small modicum of joy in these dark times." Dumbledore smiled to himself as he peered at Circe from over his glasses..

Circe blushed, but more from a rising sensation of anger rather than embarrassment. "So I can't tell my closest friends, my colleagues, my father… what Severus means to me. But _you_ must know?"

"After it was made apparent that Voldemort has your number, if you'll pardon the turn of phrase, I'm afraid there really was no way of backing out for you. As the Head of The Order, I had to know why you had decided to join Severus in the Double Agent game. But no one else need know. Severus and I are both in agreement that it would be better that way."

"All these secrets, all this duplicity!" Circe muttered exasperatedly.

"If you are prepared to be a spy like you say you are, you must become accommodated to secrets and duplicity. And to undertake whatever may be necessary to win the trust of the Dark Lord."

"I am." she said stone-faced.

"And how can I be sure, my dear, that you will remain faithful to The Order? And not become tainted by His ways of thinking?" Dumbledore asked, the very slightest hint of menace in his voice.

"I'm afraid Voldemort didn't kill one of my sweethearts, Professor." she said, staring daggers at the old man. He knew instantly that she was referring to Snape's anchor of loyalty to the Order and he raised a surprised brow at her. "But a great many of my friends died in the wizarding war. The _first_ wizarding war as it'll be called soon. I am an Ancient Studies Professor, I examine History for a living and I know how the eyes of time look upon people who think like He does, who believe what He believes, Headmaster... I suppose you will just have to trust me. The good old-fashioned way."

"And you will have Severus beside you to keep you on the straight and narrow." he replied with a glint of cheekiness in his eyes.

"I have my own moral compass without Severus's guiding example, thank you very much." she said haughtily, rising sharply to give Fawkes a scratch behind his ear. Dumbledore paused, sensing the tenderness around mentions of Severus.

"Of course, my apologies Professor." Albus said steadily.

Circe did not turn around to acknowledge his apology. Instead she kept her eyes firmly on Fawkes as he nuzzled into her hand. He blinked at her slowly, turning his beaky face to the side as he regarded her curiously. Circe smiled back at him sadly.

"I suppose we'll have to keep Barty's death a secret too." She eventually continued. Her voice weary and emotionless.

"Indeed. Voldemort obviously has some kind of task or purpose for you that is connected to Barty. And as his son went to great pains to hide his body, those plans probably all hinge on keeping knowledge of his death buried. So Barty, again if you'll pardon the turn of phrase, must remain un-buried."

"Otherwise I risk outing myself." Circe grumbled. "But what will He ask?!" Circe said aloud to the open air. She knew Dumbledore didn't have an answer for her, but nevertheless it felt good to vocalise her worries.

_And if Voldemort does have my number, I wish he'd just hurry up and call…_

* * *

Cedric's funeral had been looming on the horizon for a long and terrible time. And still Circe had been surprised when Minerva had emerged in their shared conservatory in a black dress. Somehow she'd managed to forget in the state her head was in that one traditionally wears black to a funeral... She rushed back into her room before Minerva could see her in her rather too colourful jumper, throwing off her clothes and re-dressing in the closest black dress she could lay her hands on: a simple, silky, strappy number that fell below her knees but left her shoulders bare. Circe grabbed an oversized black blazer to place over the top of it and re-pinned Minerva's amber brooch to the lapel as the only hint of colour anywhere on the outfit.

 _That could have been an embarrassing moment, considering everyone's going to be watching me._ Circe thought to herself as she rolled up the blazer's sleeves.

Amos Diggory had personally written to her and asked Circe to play at Cedric's memorial service in the Great Hall. Circe had put down his letter soaked in tears as she read Amos's summation of Cedric's love for the MMAP and the special connection he felt to his fellow attendees because of the music they shared. Her tears sprang up anew as she remembered the happy times in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom with Cedric and the others, wasting hour after joyous hour listening to CD's together. She recalled how Cedric had beguiled the girls and lightly bullied the boys until he had 'Definitely Maybe' on for the one hundredth time, how he'd smile that winning, golden smile, how he'd plucked experimentally at Circe's guitar... When Cedric hadn't been talking about Quidditch or his NEWTS or the Tri-Wizard tournament, he'd been talking about music. Specifically Oasis. Circe remembered the unease that she had felt at the Yule Ball towards performing in front of her students, but if she couldn't summon her bravery for Cedric's send off, she'd never forgive herself.

Circe picked up her acoustic guitar and sat on the edge of her bed, tuning the instrument again. She leaned over and spoke the song she had chosen to perform into the Cantuscope's cone, strumming along to the melody as she practised the chords a few more times. Her hands were already shaking with nerves and she was making stupid mistaks in her playing. She tried to swallow down the bile that rose up in her throat as she pictured the faces of all of her Hogwarts students staring up at her.

 _This might be my last hurrah for a while._ She pondered, thinking that it was unlikely that spying would grant her much free time to gig with The Weird Sisters. _Plus, it's not really responsible spying is it… One minute you're opening up covert documents from a huge brown envelope stamped with a big red "Classified", and the next you're treading the boards in the O2 Academy..?_

Still, she found it hard to try to"enjoy" the idea of her upcoming performance. In a perfect world she would never, ever, have been performing today…

She swung her guitar over her shoulder and knocked politely at Minerva's door. The Gryffindor Head of House answered promptly, her eyes already red and puffy. Circe felt her own eyes clouding over again and before either of them had exchanged a word to one another, they were crying together in a tight hug. After a moment's sobbing, Minerva drew apart from Circe with primly pursed lips, clearing her throat as she delved in a pocket for a hankie.

"Look at the two of us…" she chided, dabbing at her eyes. "Balling before we've even got there." She handed another tissue to Circe and she blew her nose, gathering her composure together again. She found herself aching for Severus again, despite the painful stalemate that had settled between them. She wished that she had him to lean upon, to cry to at the end of it all, to lay on his chest whilst he stroked her hair and spoke gently to her in his wonderful, rich voice. Luckily, Minerva was the one there for her, with an extended arm and a small smile and Circe clamped on to her like a crutch.

"Come on. The sooner we get this awful, awful day started, the sooner we can be in the Three Broomsticks raising a toast."

By the time Circe and Minerva reached the Great Hall, the space was full with the already seated, waiting students. The Hall was a sea of black; even the Beauxbattons ladies had changed into a uniform that fit the dark colour palette and the Durmstrang boys wore their full traditional furs as a mark of respect. Their Headmaster was not amongst them. Karkaroff had not been seen since the night of Cedric's death and Circe secretly hoped that he was far away with his wife and his daughter, tucked away in some distant corner of the world. There were no tables laid out, just row upon row of benches, all facing the stage at the top of the Great Hall and as Circe drew nearer to the front, she saw the single photo of Cedric that sat mounted on an easel, placed for all to see. She wondered why the room felt so stark and empty, despite being full to capacity but she looked up and realised the roof of the Great Hall was bare and empty, uncharmed and naked. She took her seat with the other staff lined against the walls, overlooking the main body of students at the center of the Hall, propping her guitar up beside her and jittering her leg nervously as a low chatter buzzed around her.

"Circe, ma cherie, are you alright?" Maxime asked gently from beside her. Circe looked up sharply, almost unaware that she'd taken a seat beside the Beauxbattons Head.

"Just… a little nervous. Mr Diggory asked me to do a small something for the memorial service."

"My 'eart breaks for all you Hogwarts Professors." Maxime replied, giving Circe a pat on the shoulder. "If it had been Fleur… One of my own. Mon Dieu, I would have been inconsolable."

Circe did not have the words to reply to Maxime. Her throat closed as a bubble of emotion threatened to make her start crying again.

She looked out over the amassed students, some of them also red eyed and teary already. She spotted Cho, her little Quidditch star, held up by a few other fellow Ravenclaws as she openly wept, her pale face a mask of sorrow. She looked away from Cho, her heart threatening to tear in two at the sight of her, and that's when she found Severus's eyes. He stared at her from across the Great Hall, his arms folded across his chest, his expression unreadable. For what seemed like an agonising age, he did not take his eyes off her and Circe felt like he was looking into her very soul, sifting through her every thought and sorrow and Circe too felt like she was the only person in the room that could feel his own sadness too. It was hidden, for sure, buried under his stoic outer shell but she could see it just sitting beneath the surface. If you ran a knife over Severus's skin, he would bleed misery.

"Still, in the midst of sorrow there can be joy…" Maxime continued, rousing Circe from her staring match with Severus and delving into her pocket. She placed a small fold of paper into Circe's palm which was sealed with a deep blue wax button. Circe let the surface of the wax seal play in the dim light, noting the ornate "OL" embossed into it.

"Wait… is this from-"

"Odette." Maxime chimed in before Circe could finish her sentence. "I'm afraid I wrote to Odette myself around Christmas time, asking if you'd made contact with her. When she wrote back and informed me you had not… I may have told her where _she_ could find _you_ instead."

Circe looked at Maxime, feeling like her eyes were about to pop out of her head. The paper in her hand now felt like it weighed a tonne and she buried it in her pocket to save it for later.

"Ah, of course you will want to read it in private, non?" Maxime said hurriedly. When Circe began jittering her leg again, staring at her feet, the French Headmistress frowned. "Did I do the right thing, ma cherie? Passing on your information to her?"

"Yes. Thank you, Olympe." Circe replied, doing her best to muster a small grin.

The whole room fell silent as Dumbledore entered the Great Hall, followed by Amos Diggory and a small, petite, blonde woman who Circe assumed was Cedric's mother. Dumbledore led the Diggorys down to the very front row of the benches, nodding deeply to them once they had taken their seats. As the Headmaster approached Cedric's photograph in the center of the stage, you could have heard a pin drop in the silence.

"Today, as our three schools look to part ways, we should have another seated amongst us…" Dumbledore began, gesturing to Cedric's picture. "Cedric Diggory was a student who embodied all of the finest qualities of Hufflepuff house. He was a hard worker, he valued fairness and truth and he was, above all else, a _fierce_ friend.

The Ministry does not wish for you to be aware of the circumstances in which he died. But all of you have been affected by his death, whether you knew him well or not. Therefore I think you have a right to know exactly what happened that night."

A ripple of whispers ran through the crowd of students and Circe found herself locking eyes with Severus once more.

"Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort. There will be many people who do not believe this. Many who wish to think that the Dark Lord has not and will never return. But it would be an insult to Cedric's memory to pretend that his death was a mere accident or that he was somehow at fault.

The purpose of the Triwizard tournament was to further co-operation between magical communities across the world. And in the days that will follow, I hope that message of co-operation and understanding is as strong as ever. The bonds we have made this year are more important than ever before. In light of Voldemort's return we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. And in the face of the raging storm heading our way, we must endeavour to have those whom we are bonded to by love by our side, to keep us strong, to keep us united."

Circe looked to Severus and he back at her, the words of Dumbledore striking a chord within both their souls. Tears ran freely down her face and Severus too fought desperately to keep his stoic composure.

 _I love you, Severus. I love you._ The thought circulated round Circe's mind on repeat, over and over again as she wept openly.

"But today, we are not here to preach a sermon on the future. We are here to remember a boy who was fair and true and brave. To celebrate his life and honour him for who he was and what he meant to us. And to commence, I would like to invite Professor Smith, who has been asked to perform something by Mr Diggory, to begin for us."

Circe wiped her face and gathered her scant courage. She walked slowly up to the stage, her feet almost dragging. She turned her head to the gathered mourners, all eight hundred of them pictures of absolute misery. She saw Harry, Ron and Hermione towards the back of the room, their eyes filled with tears. Potter looked fragile, like he was about to smash at any minute and the boy's horrific cries when he'd appeared back at the stadium, clutching Cedric's body, rang through her mind again.

_I couldn't leave him! Not there..._

The memory of the pure noise of grief he'd made tore at her soul. She felt her throat close up with emotion and she tried to swallow away her own sadness.

Every single adult, staff and visitor, were clad in black and they stood like chess pieces at the back and sides of the room, the guardians of death. Minerva's lip had been quivering throughout the memorial service and Circe had to fight her own tears as the Gryffindor Head of House nodded solemnly to her. The only person whose face was a mask of grim stoicism was Severus. He looked at his feet, only glancing up to Circe for the briefest of moments from through his parted black hair. But his eyes caught hers and a shock ran bodily through her.

She coughed awkwardly as she took her seat on the lone stool placed on the stage, positioning her guitar onto her lap. She took another sweeping look out over her children, their expectant faces looking to her for guidance and affirmation in their sorrow.

"I… uh -" she began awkwardly. "Cedric once told me in a MMAP meeting to listen to this particular band he liked. Little did he know that this year I've pretty much _only_ listened to Oasis. And it was all his fault..."

A few of the MMAP members smiled in the crowd. Circe allowed herself a small smile too as she remembered the boy in their music sessions last year. Bright, wonderful, beguiling, so full of life. Her face fell back into a mournful mask.

"He… he asked me in one of our meetings if I could teach him to play one of their songs. And I never did…" The lump in her throat came back with avengence. From the corner of her eye she saw Severus shift ever so slightly in response to her. Circe looked at him from the stage, her vision cloudy. He lowered his hands to his sides and stared openly at her, his eyes deep wells of concern. She looked so small and alone on that stage. He longed to run to her side and fold her in his embrace, protect her from the sadness.

"So Cedric, this one I offer up for you. It's a fairly simple one, but then again all Oasis songs are. About eight different chords, watch out for the F with the added ninth… I'm sorry I never got round to teaching you, our kid."

Circe took a deep breath in and started strumming.

" _Maybe I don't really wanna know_

_How your garden grows_

_'Cause I just wanna fly_

_Lately, did you ever feel the pain_

_In the morning rain_

_As it soaks you to the bone?_

_Maybe I just wanna fly_

_Wanna live, I don't wanna die_

_Maybe I just wanna breathe._

_Maybe I just don't believe._

_Maybe you're the same as me_

_We see things they'll never see._

_You and I are gonna live forever"_

There was not a dry eye in the house as she sang. Even Severus's eyes grew moist as he heard her voice strain from emotion. But her hands were steady, playing the song with skill, keeping to the steady beat. As she continued on into the second verse, the tears began to roll down her nose and onto the guitar, but she kept her voice resolute and strong. She kept her eyes firmly on the instrument, afraid that she would completely falter if she saw her kid's faces again. Yet, she felt their hurt and their tears, some crying openly on each other's shoulders.

" _Maybe I will never be_

_All the things that I wanna be…"_

Circe raised her eyes steadily, finding comfort and message in the words she sang, and she prayed the students heard it too.

" _But now is not the time to cry_

_Now's the time to find out why._

_I think you're the same as me_

_We see things they'll never see_

_You and I are gonna live forever."_

Her voice soared into the bare rafters of the Great Hall.

" _We're gonna live forever…"_

She raised her face to the light, and Severus saw the tear stains etched into her cheeks.

" _We're gonna live forever…"_

Harry watched, sharing his grief with everybody sat beside him. Hogwarts, Beauxbattons and Durmstrang. Together, as one.

" _We're gonna live forever..."_


End file.
